In the quiet corner of the small room, the newborn baby monkey lay wrapped in a soft cloth. Her tiny body looked so fragile, her fur still thin and patchy, and her breathing gentle but a little unsteady. I knelt beside her, careful not to startle her.
When her eyes met mine, it felt like time stopped. They were wide and deep, shimmering with a sadness that spoke louder than words. She didn’t cry, didn’t move much—just stared, as if trying to tell me something her tiny voice couldn’t yet express.
Her gaze seemed to ask questions: Where is my mother? Why am I here? Will you care for me? My heart tightened. I reached out slowly, letting her sniff my fingers before gently stroking the side of her face. Her eyes softened, but the sadness didn’t fade completely.
I could see she had been through something difficult. Maybe she had lost her mother too soon, or perhaps she had been separated from her family. Whatever the reason, that look in her eyes was one I would never forget—so small, yet carrying the weight of loneliness.
I spoke to her softly, my voice barely a whisper. “It’s okay now, little one. I’m here.” She blinked slowly, almost as if she understood. I lifted her into my arms, feeling her tiny heartbeat against my chest.
As I rocked her gently, the sadness in her gaze seemed to ease just a little. She tucked her face into my palm, and I knew in that moment she had found some comfort.
Her story might have started in hardship, but I silently promised her that from now on, she would never face the world alone again.
