In the corner of the soft nursery bed, a tiny newborn monkey lay curled up, his body trembling with gentle sobs. His eyes, still heavy and confused from birth, blinked slowly as he looked around—but no one came.
No warm arms.
No mother’s touch.
Just silence… and the sound of his soft, aching cry.
He had been rescued just hours earlier—found alone, his fur still damp, his umbilical cord barely dried. The team suspected that his mother, too weak or frightened, had abandoned him after birth. In the wild, this sometimes happens. But in a baby’s heart, that truth is too big to understand.
All he knew was that he was alone, and the only language he had was to cry—long, sad cries that came from the deepest part of his tiny chest.
One of the caretakers, hearing the sounds, gently approached. She reached into the incubator and softly picked him up, wrapping him in a clean cloth. He flinched at first—still scared—but as she pressed him against her warm chest, his crying began to slow.
“You’re safe now,” she whispered. “We’re here.”
She offered him warm milk with a dropper. At first, he turned away, still unsure. But after a few more minutes in her gentle arms, he opened his tiny mouth and began to drink.
The cries turned into little sniffs. Then sighs. Then sleep.
Though his mother hadn’t returned for him, kind humans became his family, giving him the warmth and care he so desperately needed.
And that night, wrapped in soft blankets and soft love, the little baby no longer cried.
