The baby monkey clung tightly to his mother’s fur, his tiny fingers trembling as a weak cry escaped his mouth. His stomach growled softly, empty and aching, and the sound made his eyes fill with tears again. He did not understand why the warm milk had not come yet. He only knew the deep, uncomfortable hunger that made his body shake.
His mother shifted uneasily on the branch, clearly tired after a long day of searching for food. She tried to calm him with gentle grooming, brushing her fingers across his head, but the baby pushed back angrily. He cried louder, his face scrunched with frustration and fear. Hunger made him feel abandoned, even though his mother was right there.
The forest around them was quiet, except for his sobs echoing through the leaves. Birds paused, insects stilled, and the world seemed to listen to his pain. The baby arched his back, kicking his legs, demanding milk with all the strength his small body had. To him, waiting felt endless and unbearable.
At last, his mother pulled him close to her chest. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him firmly, letting him feel her heartbeat. Slowly, she offered him comfort, warmth, and finally the milk he had been crying for. The baby latched on desperately, his cries fading into soft, relieved sounds.
As his belly filled, his anger melted away. His eyelids drooped, and his grip relaxed. He nuzzled into his mother, safe again. The forest returned to its calm rhythm. Hunger had turned love into anger, but care turned tears back into peace, reminding them both that patience and comfort heal even the loudest cries.
In that quiet moment, the baby learned hunger passes, but a mother’s presence always remains nearby forever.
