The tiny white baby monkey trembled in a corner of the noisy market, his bright eyes wide with fear. Crowds passed by without noticing his fragile body, tied loosely to a wooden pole. His fur, once soft and clean, was dusty, and his little hands clung desperately to the rope as if it were the only thing keeping him safe in the chaotic world around him.
I first saw him while walking past a row of animal sellers. His soft whimpering made me stop. When our eyes met, his expression shifted—fear mixed with a silent plea for help. He was far too young to be away from his mother, maybe only a few weeks old. My heart tightened.
When I approached the seller, the man shrugged carelessly. “Found him in the forest,” he muttered, as though the baby’s life were nothing more than merchandise. It was clear the tiny monkey wouldn’t survive long under such conditions. Without hesitation, I negotiated his release, determined to give him a chance at life.
The moment I lifted him into my arms, he wrapped his thin limbs around me, burying his face into my shirt. His body was cold, but his grip was full of trust. As we left the bustling market, his frightened cries softened into tiny whimpers, then finally into calm breaths.
At home, I prepared a warm blanket and a bottle of milk. At first, he was unsure, sniffing the bottle with caution. But hunger soon pushed aside his fear. He drank slowly, then eagerly, making soft sounds of relief. After eating, he curled up on my lap, his small chest rising and falling peacefully. For the first time that day, he felt safe.
Days passed, and the little white monkey began to show his true personality—curious, playful, and full of gentle affection. He followed me everywhere, clinging to my arm like a tiny shadow. Each small step he took forward reminded me why rescuing him mattered.
Though his start in life was painful, his future was now filled with warmth, care, and the love he had been denied. And in his bright, trusting eyes, I saw hope shining once again.
