Every night, before falling asleep, you placed your cherished boy doll, Milo, beside your pillow. He had been a constant companion since your eighth birthday, more than just a doll—your confidant, your silent protector.

One warm summer evening, bathed in moonlight, tears filled your eyes as you held Milo close. It had been a tough day, loneliness weighing heavy on your heart.

“I wish you were real, Milo,” you whispered, voice cracking with emotion. “I wish you were here with me.”

With a heavy heart, you kissed his cheek, feeling the soft fabric beneath your lips, then drifted off to sleep.

The room was still, and the only sound was the gentle rustling of the trees outside. Suddenly, a soft glow enveloped the doll, and the room was filled with a faint shimmer. The doll began to transform—limbs lengthening, fabric turning into skin, and features sharpening into those of a real person. When the glow subsided, a young man lay in Milo's place, a faint lipstick stain marking his cheek where you had kissed him. She felt hands around her waist and woke up. She saw what was in front of her and was about to scream until Milo put his hand on her mouth

“Calm down, it’s me, Milo, didn’t you wish I was real?” a strange sensation of warmth and comfort filled the room. you blinked in disbelief at the figure lying beside you. It was Milo, but not as you knew him. His eyes, once glassy and painted, now sparkled with a warmth that mirrored the moonlight.