A little girl who slept alone from an early age

When Emily was still in preschool, I taught her to sleep in her own room.

Not because I didn’t love her. On the contrary—I loved her enough to understand that a child can’t grow if she always clings to an adult’s arms.

Emily’s room was the nicest in the house.

— A two-meter-wide bed with a premium mattress that cost nearly $2,000
— Shelves full of storybooks and comics
— Stuffed animals carefully arranged
— A soft, warm yellow nightlight

Every night I read her a story, kissed her forehead, and turned off the light.

Emily was never afraid to sleep alone.

Until… one morning.

“Mom, my bed felt really tight last night…”

That morning, while I was making breakfast, Emily came out after brushing her teeth, wrapped her arms around my waist, and said in a sleepy voice:

“Mom… I didn’t sleep well last night.”

I turned and smiled.

“Why not?”

Emily frowned, thought for a moment, then said:

“My bed felt… really tight.”

I laughed.

“Your bed is two meters wide and you sleep alone—how could it feel tight? Or did you forget to tidy up and your stuffed animals and books took all the space?”

Emily shook her head.

“No, Mom. I left it clean.”

I stroked her hair, thinking it was just a child’s complaint.

But I was wrong.