The morning was quiet when the family found him — a tiny baby monkey, lying near the edge of a dirt path, motionless and frightened. His head showed a terrible wound, fresh and raw, the result of something cruel that no baby should ever experience. He was so small that he could barely open his eyes, his breaths shallow, his body trembling with fear and pain.
The father carefully lifted him with both hands, afraid of hurting him even more. “He’s still breathing,” he whispered softly. The mother quickly prepared a warm blanket, and together they carried him home. Every step felt like a promise — they would not let this little one suffer alone.
At home, the mother cleaned the wound with gentle care, using warm water and soft cloths. The baby whimpered quietly, his voice barely a sound, but his tiny fingers reached out to hold her hand — as if asking for comfort. “Shh… it’s okay now,” she said, her tears falling as she stroked his tiny arm. “You’re safe, little one.”
The family stayed by his side all day. They gave him warm milk through a small syringe, drop by drop. At first, he didn’t drink much, but soon, he began to swallow slowly — a small but powerful sign of hope. His eyes opened for the first time, glistening softly in the dim light.
Every night, the mother whispered the same words to him: “Be strong. You can heal.” Though the wound still looked painful, it started to dry and close over time. The baby began to move a little more each day, clinging gently to the blanket or curling up in the mother’s palm.
Weeks passed, and the wound finally began to fade. A thin scar remained, but it told a story — not of pain, but of survival. The family named him Tomi, meaning “little warrior.” He had come from suffering, but through love, he found peace, safety, and a reason to keep living.
Now, when Tomi looks around with bright eyes and soft chirps, the family smiles with pride. Their little miracle had made it.
