Newborn baby monkey Ronaldo was barely the size of a human hand, his soft fur still thin, his eyes wide with confusion as he lay on the blanket. Everything was new to him — the air, the light, the voices — but what he searched for most was his mother’s gentle warmth. Without it, the world felt frightening.
This morning, Ronaldo began to fuss the moment he woke up. His tiny chest rose and fell quickly as he let out a weak, trembling cry. It wasn’t loud, but it was full of longing — the kind of cry only a newborn makes when their whole heart aches for comfort. He lifted his fragile arms, as if reaching for someone who wasn’t there. His little lips quivered, and each soft sob echoed with the same message: “Mama… where are you?”
The caregiver tried to soothe him, gently rocking him, whispering soft words, but Ronaldo’s cries only grew more desperate. His body wriggled helplessly, his tail curling tight around itself. He was searching for something deeper — the familiar heartbeat he used to sleep beside, the warmth he depended on, the smell that made him feel safe. Nothing else could replace it.
As the minutes passed, Ronaldo curled up in the corner of the blanket, pressing his face into the fabric as if hoping it would magically turn into his mother. His cries became softer but more heartbreaking, each one shaky and emotional. His tiny fingers grabbed the edge of the cloth, holding on the way he once held onto her fur.
The caregiver finally lifted him close, letting him feel a heartbeat — not his mother’s, but still warm and steady. Slowly, Ronaldo’s sobs weakened. His breathing eased. He rested his head against the caregiver’s chest, exhausted from crying.
He wasn’t fully calm, but for now, he had found a small piece of comfort while waiting… still hoping… still longing… for his mother’s love.
