They found Janet trapped.
Both her tiny hands were wedged between two rusted metal bars behind a broken food stall at the market. She had been stuck for hours, maybe longer. Her cries were hoarse from screaming, and her eyes were swollen with fear. No one came to help her. No one cared.
By the time Lian arrived, Janet’s hands were badly swollen, red, and bleeding. Wounds circled her wrists, and dried blood clung to her fur. She was too weak to struggle now—just whimpering softly, her body slumped in defeat.
Lian dropped everything and rushed forward. “Oh, baby,” she gasped, voice shaking. With careful hands, she pried the metal apart and lifted Janet into her arms. The tiny monkey didn’t resist. She simply collapsed against Lian’s chest, trembling.
Back at home, Lian filled a small bowl with warm water and added a pinch of natural salt. It would sting—but it would heal. She dipped a soft cloth and gently touched Janet’s wounded fingers.
The baby flinched, then whimpered. But Lian whispered, “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”
She cleaned each wound slowly, wiping away the dirt and dried blood. Her hands were swollen like little balloons, the skin split and raw. Lian wrapped them carefully in soft gauze, her heart breaking at every whimper.
Later, Janet lay curled in a warm towel, bandaged and finally resting. Her hands couldn’t move, but her breathing was calm.
For the first time, the pain was fading—and love was arriving.
Janet was no longer a trapped monkey no one noticed. She was a baby rescued, seen, and finally cared for.
