The poor baby monkey froze the moment he saw the bottle. He stared at it with wide, hopeful eyes, already crying from hunger, already imagining warm milk filling his mouth. But when the bottle was tilted, nothing came out. It was empty. Completely empty.
His face changed instantly. Confusion turned into anger, and anger burst into loud, desperate cries. He grabbed the bottle with both tiny hands, shaking it hard as if milk might magically appear. When it didn’t, he screamed even louder, tears streaming down his cheeks.
His stomach growled softly beneath the noise. Hunger made everything hurt more. He kicked his feet, threw his head back, and cried with a broken voice that echoed through the room. To him, that empty bottle felt like a promise that had been taken away.
He tried again, sucking desperately on the nipple, eyes squeezed shut. Still nothing. His cries turned sharp and furious, mixed with panic. Why is there no milk? He didn’t understand waiting. He only knew he was hungry now.
Caregivers rushed to prepare more milk, but seconds felt like hours to the tiny baby. He slammed the bottle down, then pulled it back to his chest, crying harder, torn between hope and disappointment. His small body trembled from both hunger and emotion.
When the bottle finally returned, warm and full, he paused mid-cry. His lips found the nipple, and relief washed over him instantly. The angry cries softened into desperate gulps. His hands clutched the bottle tightly, afraid it might disappear again.
Soon, the room grew quiet except for gentle sucking. His eyes slowly closed, tears drying on his fur. The storm passed as quickly as it had come.
He wasn’t angry because he was spoiled. He was angry because hunger is scary when you’re tiny. An empty bottle feels like the end of the world—until love, care, and warm milk make everything right again.
