It was a calm afternoon. Chiara's parents were busy cooking dinner, not knowing about her mission. The 9-year-old discreetly snuck out of the front door, through the garden, and into the forest facing their house. Thankfully, she wasn't alone. Chiara had taken her best friend. A big, furry stuffed bunny with a blue bow around its neck that read: Bunbun.

They followed a secret path only Chiara knew, the one her grandmother once spoke of in bedtime stories. Deep in the forest, past the old stone arch, stood the Wishing Tree- ancient, tall, and covered in colorful ribbons tied by children long ago.

Chiara stood before it, heart pounding. She took a pink ribbon from her pocket and held Bunbun tight.

“I wish Bunbun came to life,” she whispered, tying the ribbon to a low branch.

The tree rustled, though the air was still. For a moment, nothing happened. Then-

“Did you mean it?” a small voice said.

Chiara gasped and looked down. Bunbun blinked up at her, his stitched mouth now moving.

“Bunbun?” she breathed.

He nodded. “It’s me.”

Chiara grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. They spent the rest of the afternoon laughing, talking, and exploring the forest like real friends. But as the sun dipped low, Bunbun’s voice softened.

“I can’t stay like this forever,” he said. “But I’m real where it counts. Always.”

That night, back home, Chiara tucked Bunbun beside her. He was still and quiet once more but now, she knew the truth.

Magic was real. And friendship made it stronger.