The morning was quiet, with the soft rustle of leaves and distant chirps filling the air. But in the middle of the room, one tiny baby monkey cried as if his whole world had shattered.
Mario, just a few weeks old, sat alone on the cool floor. His eyes were red, his tiny hands trembling, and his cries echoed with pure heartbreak.
“Mmm… maaa…” he whimpered softly, looking around.
His little body crawled toward the doorway, his tail dragging behind him. He sniffed the air, hoping for a trace of his mother’s scent. But there was nothing. Just an empty space where comfort used to be.
Mom had only gone outside briefly to gather fruit, but time moved differently for baby Mario. To him, even a minute felt like forever.
He climbed a small blanket pile, hoping she might be hiding there. When he found no one, he sat at the top, threw his head back, and let out a loud, painful wail. His whole body shook as tears rolled down his cheeks, matting the soft fur on his face.
Then—just when his cries became the loudest—the door opened.
His mom stepped in with fruit in her hand, and in that second, Mario gasped and scrambled forward. He stumbled, nearly tripping over his own tail, but nothing could stop him.
He ran straight into her arms and clung to her tightly, burying his face in her chest. His cries softened, replaced by soft hiccups as he wrapped himself around her like a baby vine.
Mom held him close, rocking gently.
“You’re okay now, my sweet boy,” she whispered.
And just like that, the world was right again—for little Mario.
