บท 157: Idiot

The soft cooing sound pulls me from a restless, shallow sleep. I blink a few times, disoriented and tired, my body already on high alert. Cooing? A bird? The sound is out of place in the usually quiet palace chambers. Reflexively, I turn to check on MiMi. She's nestled peacefully in her crib, a little smile playing on her lips, as if she's dreaming of something wonderful. The sight softens my heart. At least she's having a good dream. I run a gentle hand over her tiny fingers, feeling the tension in me ease—only slightly.

But now, the noise is bothering me again. The culprit. My eyes snap to the window, and I see it—a flash of familiar green and blue feathers. I narrow my eyes in disbelief. Could it be? Grape? That fat, greedy bird?