The baby monkey woke up suddenly, eyes opening wide into a world that felt empty and cold. The warmth he remembered was gone. His tiny belly tightened painfully, reminding him how long it had been since his last feeding. Confusion came first, then fear, and finally the crying began.
At first, his cry was soft, almost polite, as if asking gently. But when no arms appeared and no milk touched his lips, the cry grew louder. His small body squirmed, hands opening and closing in the air. Hunger burned inside him, sharp and urgent. To such a tiny heart, hunger felt like danger.
Tears rolled down his face as he cried harder, calling for Mom with every breath. His voice cracked, raw and desperate. He searched the room with watery eyes, hoping to see her familiar shape, to smell her comforting scent. Each second without her felt endless.
His stomach growled again. The crying turned frantic. He kicked his feet, his whole body shaking with need. This wasn’t just about food. It was about safety. When Mom feeds him, she holds him. When she holds him, the world feels right.
Finally, footsteps came rushing closer. The baby cried even louder, using the last of his strength. Mom appeared, her face filled with worry and guilt. She lifted him instantly, pressing him against her chest. The baby clung tightly, still crying, afraid she might disappear again.
Mom prepared the milk quickly, hands shaking slightly. The moment the bottle touched his lips, everything changed. The crying stopped mid-sob. His body relaxed. His breathing slowed. Hunger faded with each swallow, replaced by warmth and relief.
His eyes fluttered as he drank, tears drying on his cheeks. Soon, he was calm, full, and safe again. Curled in Mom’s arms, he drifted back toward sleep.
Hunger had brought tears, but love brought peace. In that quiet moment, the baby monkey learned once more: when he cries, Mom always comes.
