Hadar sat on the edge of the couch, his arms crossed and his face set in a frown. The sound of David's babbling filled the room, each garbled word a reminder of the attention his little brother commanded. "Why does everyone think he's so cute?" he muttered under his breath, watching as David crawled clumsily, occasionally pulling at the carpet.
Hadar glanced towards the kitchen where his parents were busy with dinner preparations, their backs turned to him. David's giggles echoed through the room as he played with a plastic spoon, completely oblivious. "I can do things too, you know," Hadar whispered to himself, clenching his fists in frustration.
David's wails grew louder, drawing immediate attention as their mother rushed to his side, attempting to calm him with a pacifier. Hadar watched as his father joined in, bouncing David gently in his arms, yet the cries persisted. "It's always about him," Hadar thought, feeling the weight of being sidelined once again.
Hadar noticed a familiar box peeking out from beneath the couch. Curious, he pulled it out, dusting off the top to reveal his old toy—a soft, worn-out teddy bear that had once been his constant companion. "I remember this," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips as memories of comfort and solace flooded back.
With a newfound determination, Hadar approached David, who was now hiccuping gently. Kneeling beside him, Hadar offered the teddy bear. David's eyes widened as he reached for the toy, his cries subsiding into soft coos. "See, it's not so bad," Hadar whispered, watching as David cuddled the bear with delight.
The tension in the room dissolved, replaced by a gentle warmth as Hadar and David sat together, the teddy bear now a shared treasure between them. Their parents watched from the kitchen, smiles of relief on their faces. "Maybe he isn't so bad after all," Hadar thought, feeling a sense of pride and love swell within him as David giggled at his brother's silly faces.
