The morning light filtered softly through the trees surrounding Angkor Wat, warming the worn stones where Leo sat alone.
He stayed close to the same spot, small hands resting on the edge of a mossy ledge. Now and then, he looked toward the path where his mother had disappeared earlier. The forest moved around him—leaves shifting, distant calls echoing—but Leo remained still.
After a while, another young monkey approached, pausing a few feet away. There was no rush, no sudden movement. Just quiet presence. Then another joined, settling nearby as if they understood something unspoken.
Leo didn’t move much, but his posture softened. The space around him no longer felt empty. The group stayed together, not playful, not loud—just close.
By midday, Leo had shifted from the ledge to the ground, sitting among them. The forest continued its rhythm, unchanged, but something small had settled.
Mom hadn’t returned yet. But Leo wasn’t alone anymore.