The tiny baby monkey sat alone, curled into himself, eyes wide with fear and hunger. Moments earlier, his mother had climbed away, leaving him behind without warning. To the baby, her absence felt endless. The warmth of her body vanished, replaced by cold air and silence.
His stomach cramped painfully. Milk was all he knew, all he needed, and without it his strength faded fast. He opened his mouth and cried, a sharp, desperate sound that carried his fear into the open space. Each cry was a plea, not just for food, but for safety and love.
He tried to stand, wobbling on weak legs, but quickly sank back down. Tiny hands trembled as he hugged himself, searching for comfort that was no longer there. His cries grew louder, then broke into shaky sobs. Hunger made every emotion heavier, every second slower.
From far away, a familiar voice finally answered. The baby lifted his head, hope flickering in his tired eyes. He cried again, louder now, summoning all the strength he had left. Footsteps rushed closer, and suddenly, gentle hands lifted him up.
Wrapped in warm arms, his shaking eased. The smell he recognized returned, and with it, a feeling of safety. Milk touched his lips, and instinctively he drank, clinging tightly as if afraid to be left again. Each swallow calmed his racing heart.
The crying faded into soft breaths. His eyes slowly closed, hunger replaced by comfort. Though the moment of being left alone had filled him with fear, it ended in reassurance.
For a baby so small, love and milk mean survival. Being alone is terrifying, but being held again restores the world. In those caring arms, the baby monkey slept peacefully, no longer hungry, no longer afraid, knowing he was not abandoned.
