In the warm morning sun, a tiny baby monkey sat all alone under the shade of a tree. Her tummy rumbled with hunger, but more than that—it ached for comfort.
She looked around with wide, watery eyes, searching the space for a familiar face, a soft hand, or the warm belly she once knew. But no one was there.
With a trembling lip, the baby let out a soft cry. Then another. Louder this time. Her tiny fists clenched and unclenched. Her tail curled close as she rocked on her bottom, body stiff with frustration. She was too young to understand why she felt so empty, so forgotten.
The cries grew sharper—louder. It wasn’t just sadness now. It was a tantrum, pure and helpless. She stomped her tiny feet and screamed with all the strength her little lungs could offer. Her head tossed back, her voice echoed through the quiet trees. She wanted someone. Anyone. She wanted milk. She wanted love.
A few dry leaves blew past her, rustling softly, as if offering sympathy.
Then—a noise. Footsteps.
A human appeared, carrying a small milk bottle.
The baby monkey’s eyes lit up, her cries stopping mid-sob. Her little body wobbled forward on all fours. The human knelt, slowly offering the bottle. The baby sniffed, then reached up with both hands, clutching the bottle tightly.
Warm milk flowed into her mouth. Her eyes closed in relief.
The tantrum faded. Her tiny belly began to fill. And for a moment, the world felt safe again.
In the arms of kindness, the baby monkey found what she was desperately searching for—not just milk, but a little piece of love in a big, confusing world. ❤️
