The jungle was unusually quiet that morning. A tiny baby monkey lay wrapped in a faded cloth, barely moving, his breaths shallow and slow. His eyes blinked weakly, as though the world was slipping further away with each moment. He was too young to understand pain, too innocent to know why his little body hurt so much.
The caretakers had found him alone the day before, trembling beside a tree where his mother was nowhere to be found. They named him Tomo, a name meaning “light,” hoping he would bring brightness into their lives. And for a while, he did. When they first fed him warm milk, he looked up with the faintest smile, his tiny hands clutching their fingers as though holding on to life itself.
But as the night deepened, Tomo’s breathing grew weaker. The caretakers sat beside him, refusing to leave. One of them whispered softly, “Please stay, little one. You’re not alone anymore.” They stroked his soft fur, keeping him warm against their hearts. The stars above twinkled faintly, as if watching over him.
In his final moments, Tomo opened his eyes one last time. There was no fear — only peace, as though he felt the love surrounding him. His tiny hand reached out, brushing the caretaker’s finger before falling still. The forest grew silent, holding its breath.
Tears streamed down their faces as they realized their brave little fighter was gone. “Rest now, Tomo,” one whispered, her voice breaking. “May your soul find a safe place — free from pain, full of love.”
They buried him beneath a large tree, wrapping him gently in his blanket. The wind blew softly through the leaves, almost like a lullaby for a baby who had gone too soon. Though his life had been short, he had been cherished deeply, even if only for a few precious days.
As they left, one of them looked back and murmured, “I hope you can still survive somehow, little one — somewhere brighter, somewhere beautiful.” And though the jungle was quiet, it felt as if a tiny spirit smiled from beyond, reminding them that love never truly dies.
