The little baby monkey trembled beneath the soft towel, his fur still muddy from the nightmare he had survived. Hours ago, he had been fighting for his life in a violent flash flood—swirling water dragging him away from his mother, pulling him into darkness. By luck and human kindness, someone saw his tiny body clinging to a bamboo branch, crying for help with what strength he had left. Now, in a warm quiet home, he faced his very first bath since being rescued.
The basin of warm water looked calm compared to the raging flood he remembered. But to him, water meant terror. The moment his tiny toes touched the surface, he cried, voice shaking with fear. He clung to his rescuer’s fingers tightly, eyes wide, pleading not to be left alone again. His weak body trembled so much that even the towel around him quivered.
Gently, slowly, warm hands supported him, whispering comfort in every movement. A cup poured water across his muddy fur—soft, gentle, nothing like the river that almost swallowed him. He winced at first, then let out a hesitant sigh as the dirt washed away. Bit by bit, he realized this water was not here to take him—it was here to heal him.
The rescuer hummed softly, stroking his head, and his cries softened into small whimpers. His little eyes blinked, heavy with exhaustion and safety. For the first time since the flood, he felt warm. Loved. Protected.
After the bath, wrapped in a dry cloth like a delicate miracle, he rested against the chest of the one who saved him. His breathing steadied, tiny fingers curling into the shirt as if saying thank you without words.
Tonight, he would sleep with peace instead of fear.
A second chance had begun.
