In a quiet corner of the rescue home, a tiny baby monkey named Nino was crying loudly again. His small hands reached up toward his caretaker, his voice echoing through the room. He didn’t want to be left on the ground — not for a single moment. Nino always wanted to be carried.
Whenever the caretaker tried to step away, Nino would scream and cling tightly to her leg, his little face full of panic. The moment he was lifted into her arms, the crying stopped instantly. He would snuggle close to her chest, eyes half-closed, comforted by the warmth and heartbeat he trusted most.
No toy, no blanket, no bottle could replace that feeling of safety. Nino had been rescued when he was just a few days old — weak, cold, and without a mother. Since then, human touch had become his comfort, his way to feel loved and secure.
Sometimes, the caretaker would sigh softly and smile. “Oh Nino, you little spoiled boy,” she whispered, stroking his soft fur. “You just love being held, don’t you?”
Nino would look up at her with wide eyes, as if to say, “Yes, please don’t let me go.” Then he’d wrap his arms around her neck and rest his head under her chin, completely at peace.
Even when she tried to lay him down to sleep, his hands would reach out again — trembling slightly, begging not to be left alone. And so, she carried him once more, rocking him gently until his breathing slowed and his tiny body relaxed.
His cry wasn’t just for attention — it was the voice of a baby who had known loneliness, now learning love one gentle hug at a time.
