In the quiet corner of a rescue shelter, a fragile newborn monkey named Aba lay wrapped in a soft blanket. His tiny body, barely the size of a hand, trembled as he cried—loud, sharp, and heartbreaking cries that echoed through the room.
Aba was recently rescued, found alone without a mother. He was just days old, his eyes barely open, and his world already full of confusion and sadness. He didn’t understand why he felt so empty inside—only that something was missing: milk and mother’s warmth.
His little hands reached out into the air, hoping to find a familiar chest to cling to, or a heartbeat to calm him. But there was nothing. Just the soft blanket and the gentle sounds of the shelter.
Aba’s cries grew louder. He was so hungry.
The caretakers rushed in. One gently lifted him, cradling his tiny body in their hands. Another quickly prepared a warm bottle of milk, carefully testing the temperature before bringing it close to his trembling lips.
At first, Aba turned his head, still scared. But the smell of the milk made his nose twitch. Then, slowly, he latched on and began to drink—tiny sips at first, then faster and stronger. His body began to settle, his cries turned into quiet little grunts, and his eyes fluttered shut.
For the first time in hours, Aba felt peace. He wasn’t alone. He was safe. And someone cared
