The evening light slipped through the doorway, painting a warm glow on the floor where the little baby monkey sat. His tiny arms wrapped around his knees, body curled in sadness. Every few seconds he lifted his head, eyes red and watery, staring toward the door as if expecting it to open any moment. But it didn’t. His mom had gone to do her chores, leaving him behind for a while, and the baby didn’t understand why. To him, every minute without her felt like forever.
He whimpered softly at first, small broken sounds like someone trying not to cry. But when no footsteps came, no gentle hands returned to hold him, his sorrow burst into loud cries. He scrambled closer to the door, pressing his face against the small gap, calling out in frustration. His little fists hit the floor, tail flicking in anger. Why mom leave? Why not pick me up? His heart couldn’t understand that she would come back soon.
A neighbor monkey passed by, curious, but the baby pushed him away with a sharp cry. He didn’t want comfort from anyone—he wanted her. He wanted warm cuddles, familiar smell, soft chest to sleep on. Instead, he sat alone, tears dripping onto the cold ground.
Minutes turned into what felt like hours for him. He looked around lost, then returned to the same place near the door, hoping this time she’d appear. When he finally heard footsteps, he froze. The crying stopped—just silence and listening. The door opened slowly, and there she was. His sadness melted instantly. He leaped into her arms, clinging tightly as if he would never let go again.
His pain, his anger, his loneliness—all replaced by relief.
He was home again, safe in mother’s warmth.
