Baby monkey Koi sat quietly in the corner of the leafy garden, her little body curled into a ball. Her energy was low, her fur slightly ruffled, and her usually bright eyes looked tired and watery. She wasn’t herself today — something inside her just didn’t feel right.
With a soft, weak cry, Koi looked around for her mother. Her voice was quiet, almost like a whisper, but it carried the weight of discomfort and sadness. “Mom…” she called, her tone filled with longing. Her tiny hand clutched her tummy, and she leaned forward as if trying to soothe herself.
Hearing that sorrowful sound, Mama rushed over, her instincts immediately kicking in. She bent down, gently placing her hands around Koi’s small shoulders. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she cooed softly, wiping a tear from Koi’s cheek.
Koi leaned into her mom’s chest, letting out another pitiful cry. It wasn’t just a sound — it was a call for comfort, for safety, for relief. She didn’t have the energy to play, to climb, or to laugh. All she wanted was her mother’s arms.
Mama checked her temperature with the back of her hand, then wrapped Koi in a soft towel and sat with her under the warm morning sun. She carefully rubbed her back, whispered soothing words, and gave her tiny sips of warm milk to ease the ache.
Throughout the day, Koi stayed curled in her mother’s lap, her breathing slow, her eyelids heavy. She wasn’t alone in her pain — her mother never left her side, watching over her like a guardian angel.
And though Koi still felt sick, the warmth of her mother’s love was the medicine her little heart needed most.
