It was past midnight when the quiet home was suddenly filled with soft, heartbreaking cries. Little baby monkey Pity, only a few days old, had woken up hungry again. His tiny tummy grumbled, and his weak squeaks quickly turned into desperate cries for milk.
Wrapped in his soft blanket, Pity kicked his tiny legs and waved his little hands, his voice trembling in the dark. “Eee! Eee!” he cried, his face scrunching up in frustration. He didn’t understand the time — he just knew he was hungry and wanted comfort.
Mom woke instantly. She had learned that sound — her baby’s midnight tantrum. Still half asleep, she sat up and reached for the milk bottle, whispering softly, “Shh, Pity, Mommy’s here. Just a second, my love.” But Pity couldn’t wait. His cries grew louder, echoing through the quiet night, as if begging her to hurry.
She quickly warmed the milk and gently lifted him into her arms. His body trembled, tiny and impatient. The moment the bottle touched his lips, silence fell. His eyes closed halfway as he latched onto the nipple and began to drink eagerly. His soft sucking sounds filled the room, the sweetest sound Mom could hear.
Slowly, his anger faded away, replaced by the calm rhythm of feeding. Mom smiled, stroking his head tenderly. “That’s my good boy,” she whispered. “Drink as much as you need.” The warmth of the milk spread through Pity’s tiny body, and his breathing slowed, his eyelids fluttering sleepily.
When the bottle was empty, he gave a tiny sigh, milk still on his lips. Mom wiped his mouth gently and held him against her chest. His little fingers curled into her fur as he drifted back into a peaceful sleep.
Mom looked down at her baby and smiled softly. “You’re safe, my little one. Mommy’s always here, day or night.”
Outside, the moonlight shone through the window, wrapping them both in a soft glow. In that tender moment, every sleepless night felt worth it — because every cry, every feed, and every cuddle built a love that would last forever.
