Baby monkey Zhuly sat on the ground, her tiny body tense with emotion far too big for her size. Her eyes followed her mom closely, watching every movement, waiting for attention that never came. When mom passed by without stopping, something inside Zhuly broke. She let out a sharp, angry cry, louder than usual, filled with hurt more than sound.
Zhuly stood up unsteadily and chased after her mom, small hands reaching forward. She squeaked angrily, shaking her head, her face tight with frustration. To her, mom’s silence felt like rejection. She did not understand distraction or tiredness. She only knew that the arms she needed were not opening.
Her cries echoed, growing louder and more desperate. Anger mixed with sadness, spilling out in sharp screams. She stomped her tiny feet and slapped the ground, a baby’s way of saying see me. Her chest rose fast as tears filled her eyes. Every time mom looked away, Zhuly cried harder.
Mom paused for a moment, then continued moving. That moment felt endless to Zhuly. She dropped down, sobbing, her body shaking. The world suddenly felt cold and unfair. Hunger, fear, and loneliness wrapped around her small heart all at once.
Nearby, others watched quietly, hearts heavy. Zhuly’s anger was not bad behavior. It was pain asking to be noticed. She crawled toward mom again, voice cracking, then stopped, exhausted.
Finally, mom turned back.
She knelt and reached out. Zhuly froze, then rushed forward, clinging tightly, crying into her mom’s chest. Her anger melted instantly into relief. Her sobs slowed, replaced by soft hiccups as she felt warmth again.
Mom held her close, stroking her back. Zhuly’s body relaxed, eyes closing slowly. The anger was gone, replaced by safety. In that moment, Zhuly learned something she could not yet name: attention heals. Babies do not get angry without reason. They get angry because love feels far away.
Wrapped in her mom’s arms, Zhuly rested, finally calm, knowing she mattered again.
