“MUMMAAAAAAA!”
Seconds later, a small rocket named Ivaan launched himself into the room — pajama-clad, hair in glorious disarray, and his one remaining sock flapping like a flag of rebellion. His bunny toy dangled from one hand, the other clutching a half-eaten biscuit.
Show your support
Each story I write is a quiet labor of love — built word by word, heart to heart. Your support not only honors the effort behind every chapter but also empowers me to create more deeply, more often. If my writing has lingered in your thoughts, moved your heart, or brought you joy, consider becoming a part of this journey. Every contribution is a silent applause that helps the next story come to life.
Write a comment ...