The warmth against his body shifted. The steady heartbeat he was used to began to move away. His tiny fingers tightened instinctively, gripping his mother’s fur as his eyes snapped open.
She was moving.
Slowly, carefully, the mother adjusted her position on the branch. Her body leaned away from him, just enough for fear to rush into his small chest. The baby made a soft sound—half whimper, half question—asking without words, Where are you going?
She did not answer.
The baby scrambled closer, climbing clumsily over her arm, pressing his face into her side. His heart beat fast now. He had learned this feeling. It came right before being alone.
The mother paused for a moment.
She looked down at him briefly. Her eyes were calm, distant, unreadable. Then she gently pushed his hands away—not rough, but firm. Just enough to loosen his grip.
The baby panicked.
He cried out, a sharp, broken sound filled with fear. His arms reached again, desperately wrapping around her waist. His small body trembled as he clung to her with everything he had.
“No… no…” his crying seemed to say.
Other monkeys moved in the trees nearby, busy with their own lives. No one noticed this quiet struggle between a mother and her baby.
The mother stood up.
The branch shook slightly. The baby almost lost his balance and screamed louder. His nails dug into her fur, his face wet with tears. He pressed himself against her chest, trying to become invisible, trying not to be left behind.
She hesitated.
For a long second, she stayed still. The baby felt hope bloom painfully in his chest. Maybe she would stay. Maybe she wouldn’t leave this time.
But then she gently peeled his fingers away—one by one.
The baby screamed.
It was a raw, desperate cry, filled with terror and confusion. His legs kicked wildly as he tried to climb back up her body. His mouth opened wide, calling for her, calling for love, calling for safety.
She jumped to another branch.
The baby fell back onto the original branch, landing hard on his belly. The shock stole his breath. He lay there, stunned, watching his mother’s back as she moved farther away.
“Mom!” his crying begged.
She did not turn around.
The baby tried to stand, but his legs were weak. He slipped and sat down again, sobbing uncontrollably. His chest hurt. His throat burned. Tears streamed down his face and dripped onto the bark beneath him.
He reached out into empty air.
The space where she had been felt huge and cold.
Why was she leaving?
He didn’t know. He only knew that being alone was terrifying. The forest suddenly felt louder, darker, more dangerous. Every sound made him flinch. Every movement scared him.
He cried until his voice cracked.
Until his body shook with exhaustion.
Finally, he curled into a small ball, hugging himself the way she used to hug him. His tiny shoulders rose and fell with quiet sobs. His eyes stayed fixed on the direction she had gone, hoping—always hoping—she would come back.
This moment was full of pity.
A baby too small to understand abandonment.
A mother walking away.
A love the baby needed more than anything—slipping out of reach.
The forest did not stop. Life continued.
And the baby waited. 💔🐒
