The forest was soaked with heavy rain, each droplet splashing against the broad green leaves and dripping onto the muddy ground. In the middle of this storm sat an old lady monkey, her fur wet and clinging tightly to her frail body. She looked tired, curling her thin arms around herself as if trying to find warmth in the cold downpour. Her eyes carried years of wisdom and struggle, but on this day, they also carried sadness.
From the shadows, an old male monkey approached. His posture was not kind—he wasn’t coming to share shelter or warmth. Instead, he moved aggressively, trying to disturb the poor old female who clearly only wanted peace in the rain. She backed away slowly, her weak hands trembling as she clung to a slippery branch, but the male kept pressing forward, not showing mercy.
What was most heartbreaking was the silence around them. The troop that usually gathered nearby didn’t come. Younger monkeys stayed under safer trees, avoiding the confrontation. Not a single one stepped in to protect the old lady. She looked around, almost pleading with her weary eyes, but the forest was still, except for the pounding of the rain.
Her loneliness was louder than the storm. In her old age, when she needed care and kindness the most, she was left to face hostility alone. She crouched low, shivering, waiting for the male to lose interest. Every second felt heavy, and every drop of rain on her back deepened her sorrow.
Nature can be cruel, and sometimes survival makes even companions turn away. Yet, in that painful moment, the old lady monkey showed quiet strength—enduring, though nobody came to help.
