A few days later, the house felt more lively than usual.
One of the family's relatives had come to visit with their family. The living room was filled with casual conversations, small laughs, and the clinking sound of teacups being placed on the table.
The baby was sitting comfortably in his mother's arms.
His small body rested quietly against her, but his golden eyes were moving constantly, observing everything around him.
Sometimes he looked at the people talking.
Sometimes he stared at the ceiling fan slowly spinning above.
Other times he simply looked around the room as if he was carefully studying the place.
The relatives soon noticed him.
"Wow, he's really cute," one of them said with a smile.
Another person leaned closer to take a better look.
"And those eyes… they look so beautiful."
The mother smiled politely, gently adjusting the baby in her arms.
Just then, a five-year-old boy walked closer.
He was the son of the visiting relatives.
The boy looked curious as he stood in front of the baby.
"He's so small," he said softly.
The adults chuckled.
Encouraged by their reaction, the boy came even closer and began playing with the baby.
He waved his hand slowly in front of the baby's face.
The baby blinked once and watched his hand move.
The boy giggled happily.
Then, out of curiosity, he lightly touched the baby's nose.
The baby blinked again.
The boy found it amusing and touched his nose again.
And then again.
The baby's expression slowly changed.
He raised his tiny hand slightly, almost as if trying to stop the boy.
But his small arm couldn't reach far enough.
The boy touched his nose once more.
A moment later—
the baby's face twisted slightly and he suddenly began crying loudly.
The living room became quiet for a moment.
The five-year-old boy immediately stepped back.
His face showed clear guilt.
"Sorry, aunty…" he said softly.
The mother gently rocked the baby in her arms.
"It's okay," she said kindly. "He's just a little sensitive."
She softly patted the baby's back, trying to calm him.
After a few moments, the crying slowly stopped.
The baby's breathing returned to normal.
His small hands relaxed again.
Then he looked toward the little boy.
For a brief moment, his golden eyes quietly stared at him.
But the next second, his gaze shifted somewhere else.
Toward the side of the room.
Toward a plain empty wall.
The baby suddenly became quiet.
His eyes focused on that direction.
Slowly, he raised his small hand.
His fingers stretched forward.
As if he was trying to reach something.
The mother noticed the movement and followed his gaze.
"What happened?" she said softly.
But there was nothing there.
Just an ordinary wall.
No pictures.
No decorations.
Nothing at all.
She tilted her head slightly.
"He does this sometimes," she said to the others with a small laugh.
"He keeps pointing there when he wants to go somewhere."
She looked at the wall again.
"But there's only an empty wall."
One of the visiting women chuckled.
"Well, maybe he just likes the color of it."
A few people laughed lightly at the comment.
The conversation in the room slowly resumed.
But the baby didn't laugh.
He kept staring at that same direction for a few seconds longer.
His small hand still slightly stretched toward the wall.
As if something there had caught his attention.
Then, slowly, he lowered his hand.
And quietly looked back at the people in the room.
As if nothing unusual had happened.
Yet for some reason…
that brief moment left a strange feeling in the air.
Because even though everyone believed the wall was empty—
the baby had looked at it
as if he had seen something there.