I remember the moment so clearly — my breath caught in my throat, and I felt a cold emptiness in my chest. It was early morning in the forest around Angkor Wat, where the ancient stones glowed soft gold in dawn’s first light. The air was thick with humidity, and the calls of cicadas mixed with temple echoes. But for me, the world had narrowed to a single scene: Mom Alika, a graceful monkey mother, turning away — and tiny Lily, her baby, taking trembling steps after her.
I don’t know how many times I said in my head, “Oh my god …” Watching Alika’s back turned so firmly, the way her shoulders seemed to slump under the weight of something I couldn’t name, was unbearable. The forest around us, though ancient and full of peace, suddenly felt like a theater for heartbreak.
Lily was so small. Her fur was still soft, her eyes round and full of wonder and fear. She clung to a narrow root for a moment, her little fingers curling around mossy wood, and then she tried to follow. Her movements were unsteady, so earnest. My heart ached for her. She wasn’t just following a mother — she was chasing love.
Alika, meanwhile, seemed lost in her own world. She fidgeted, scratching at her side, as if wrestling with some inner turmoil. When she walked, it wasn’t graceful — she hesitated, paused, then forced herself forward. Lily would take a few steps, her small body leaning, as though pulled by an invisible thread, and Alika would glance over, but only once, before looking away again.
They moved through a grove of ancient trees whose roots wound like serpents around the temple ruins. The mossy stones glowed with a gentle green, and sunlight peeked through the leaves in golden slices. It was beautiful — but beauty has a way of hurting when you’re watching love fray in silence.
At one point, Lily lost her footing and slipped slightly. My heart leaped. I expected Alika to rush back, to scoop her baby into her arms, to comfort her. But instead, she kept walking, as if Lily’s tiny fall was nothing more than a ripple in the forest floor. Lily sat there for a moment, stunned, then got up, shaking as she balanced herself again. Tears — if monkeys could cry — must have filled her little eyes.
That moment twisted something inside me. I felt like a helpless witness to a heartbreak too pure to be staged. I wanted to call out, to beg Alika to look back, to comfort that trembling child. But I couldn’t — I was just a silent observer, tucked away among the roots and shadows.
The ancient temple stones watched us. The forest seemed to lean closer, listening. I swear even the wind softened. I thought about all the stories carved into those stones centuries ago — tales of kings, gods, sacrifices — and I realized our moment was another kind of story: one not written in stone, but imprinted on the heart.
When I finally dared to blink — I must have looked away for a second, lost in my own sorrow — I saw Alika pause under a great, twisted root. She sat. Lily froze in her tracks. My breath caught again.
Alika leaned back, resting for a moment, and Lily crept close. She crouched, unsure, reaching out a trembling hand. But Alika didn’t turn. She closed her eyes for a moment, like she was gathering strength, then she stood up, and walked on again.
Lily followed. Step by trembling step. My chest ached so badly I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like someone had pressed a heavy stone into it. I watched Lily lean, wobble, then keep going, her little body insisting on following her mother even when her mother wouldn’t reach back.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, watching them disappear deeper into the forest, their silhouettes soft against the temple stones, light filtering through the trees like tears. I felt guilty — guilty for being a voyeur, guilty for caring so much for creatures who might never know me, for who might never understand my heart at all.
When they finally vanished into the green shadows, I knelt by the root where Lily had paused. The moss was damp, tender to touch. I laid my hand gently on it, as though I could feel Lily’s heartbeat through the earth. I whispered a prayer for them: that Alika would one day look back, that Lily’s steps would one day be met with an embrace, that this ancient forest, full of history and secrets, would cradle them both in its timeless arms.
