Little Tinky sat alone in the corner of the room, arms wrapped around his tiny belly, lips trembling. His eyes, big and round, searched the area—no mom in sight. No one to snuggle. No one to feed him.
His tummy rumbled again.
He hadn’t had milk in hours.
At first, he just sniffled quietly, too tired to move. But the loneliness grew heavier, and his hunger sharper.
Then came the soft cries.
“Eh… ehh…”
They turned louder.
“WAAAHHH!!”
Tinky screamed in frustration, his voice full of heartbreak and confusion.
Where was Mom? Why was no one coming?
He rolled onto his side, moody and helpless, then pounded the floor with his tiny fists. The hunger, the sadness—it was too much for such a small heart to carry.
Caretakers nearby rushed over, hearing the painful sound.
“Oh no, Tinky,” one whispered, gently lifting him into their arms.
He clung tightly, tears soaking their shirt, eyes pleading for comfort, for food—for love.
A warm bottle was brought in. The second it touched his lips, Tinky latched on like he hadn’t eaten in days. His body finally calmed, his sobs faded, and a peaceful silence settled over him.
Everyone watching felt it—this baby had been hurting, but now, at last, he felt safe.
Tinky didn’t need much.
Just a little warmth.
A little milk.
And someone to care.
And as he finished the last few sips, eyes fluttering shut, a tiny smile peeked through his tears.
Because even an abandoned baby monkey like Tinky still holds on to hope—and hope always deserves a second chance.
