In a quiet corner of the village market, beneath a wooden stall stacked with fresh bananas and mangoes, a tiny baby monkey huddled inside a fruit basket — crying his heart out.
His name was Timo, and he had somehow gotten separated from his mother during the busy morning rush. People walked past, not noticing the little bundle of fur trembling between the papayas.
His cries were sharp and desperate.
“Eeehh! Eeeehhhh!!”
Each sound sliced the air like a tiny alarm. His eyes darted around, searching every face. None of them were Mom.
Timo tried to stand, but the basket was too deep. He slipped on a ripe banana, fell back, and let out another wail — this one louder and full of panic.
A kind vendor turned around at the noise. “Oh! Poor baby!” he whispered, slowly approaching.
But Timo backed away into the corner of the basket, still crying, little chest heaving. He didn’t want hands or help — he wanted Mom.
Just as tears soaked his soft cheeks and his tiny voice started to go hoarse, a familiar chirp came from behind the stall.
Timo froze.
He knew that sound.
Then—she appeared. Mom rushed in, arms reaching, eyes wide with worry. She leapt into the basket, scooped Timo into her arms, and pulled him close.
Silence.
Timo pressed his face into her chest and wrapped his tiny arms tight around her. The tears didn’t stop immediately—but now they came from relief.
The fruit basket still smelled sweet. But now, to Timo, it would always smell like fear and the moment he thought he’d lost everything… before being found again.
Because no fruit in the world is sweeter than a mother’s return. 🍌💞
