The morning sun had just begun to peek through the leaves, casting warm golden light across the garden. The air was still cool, and the grass shimmered with dew. In the middle of this peaceful scene, a small baby monkey wandered restlessly, her eyes darting in every direction.
She had woken up to find her mother missing from their usual sleeping spot. At first, she thought Mama might be nearby, but as she looked around, the emptiness hit her. A soft whimper escaped her lips, followed by louder cries that carried through the garden.
She searched every corner — behind the big mango tree, under the thick bushes, and near the old stone bench where they often sat together. Her tiny hands brushed the grass as if hoping to find some sign of Mama. The more she searched, the more her cries deepened, sounding like a plea for comfort.
Birds chirped overhead, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, but nothing could soothe her. Every sound made her perk up in hope, only to sigh when it wasn’t her mother’s familiar call. She sat down for a moment, hugging her knees, looking small and fragile against the wide open garden.
Then, determined not to give up, she stood and tried again — climbing a low branch to get a better view. Her eyes scanned the path that led to the house, but it was still empty. The waiting felt endless.
When Mama finally appeared, carrying breakfast in her hands, the little monkey’s cries turned to joyful squeaks. She ran as fast as her tiny legs could carry her, jumping straight into her mother’s arms.
That morning, the garden seemed brighter again — because the one she loved most had finally come back.
