In the heart of a quiet jungle clearing, a small troop of monkeys gathered near a shallow stream. The sun shimmered on the water’s surface, and the birds sang softly in the trees. Among the playful group was a tiny baby monkey named Lela. She was small, with soft brown fur and wide, curious eyes. Her tiny hands gripped the edge of a large rock as she leaned over to watch the water sparkle.
Lela had wandered a little too far from the others, especially from her mother. While the older monkeys splashed and played together, her mother sat higher in the tree, distracted and uninterested. Lela had hoped her mother would come down to play or at least stay close—but she didn’t.
As Lela leaned in closer, she saw a fish dart beneath the surface. Excited, she reached forward to try and touch it—but her fingers slipped on the wet rock.
With a sudden splash, Lela tumbled into the cold water.
She shrieked—a high, desperate cry that echoed through the trees. The stream wasn’t deep, but to a tiny baby like her, it felt like a river. Her arms flailed, and her head bobbed above and below the surface. The cold water shocked her small body, and her eyes were filled with fear.
“Ee-ee! Eee!” she cried, gasping for air, struggling to paddle with her weak limbs. Her fur soaked quickly, becoming heavy and dragging her down. She tried to grab onto floating leaves and twigs, but nothing held.
High above, her mother looked down—but didn’t move.
The other monkeys glanced over, curious, but no one rushed to help. Some babies watched from the edge, unsure what to do. Lela screamed again, water splashing around her. Her mouth filled with muddy water as she sank for a moment before popping back up, coughing and shaking.
She was so small, so scared.
Alone.
She managed to paddle toward the edge, reaching out with one weak arm. Her fingers scraped the slippery rocks. She tried again—slipping, coughing, crying louder than ever. Her little heart raced in panic.
Finally, with all her remaining strength, she grabbed onto a thick vine near the edge and pulled herself up halfway, shivering and crying.
Dripping wet and gasping, Lela sat on the cold stone. Her tiny chest rose and fell rapidly. She looked up one more time—hoping her mother would come.
But the tree above remained silent.
And so she sat, cold, alone, and soaked, learning far too soon what it meant to survive without love.
