Deep in the heart of the lush jungle, where vines dangled like ribbons and birds sang in harmony, lived a little monkey named Pupu. He was full of energy, always swinging from trees and playing tricks on the butterflies. But there was one thing that could stop him in his tracks — missing his dad.
Papa Monkey had gone on a journey across the jungle to help gather food and supplies for their troop. He promised Pupu he’d be back in a few days, but to the little monkey, each day felt like a year. Every morning, Pupu would climb to the highest branch and gaze toward the jungle path, hoping to spot his father’s familiar shadow.
On the fifth day, the sky turned golden as the sun dipped low. Pupu sat quietly by the big mango tree, his tail curled around his feet. His eyes were heavy with waiting, but his ears perked up at the distant sound of rustling leaves.
Then he saw him.
Papa Monkey, carrying a bundle of fruit on his back, walked into the clearing. In that instant, Pupu froze. His heart thumped, eyes wide. Then came the outburst — he leapt from the branch, tumbled through leaves, and dashed across the grass with joyful squeals.
“Papa!” he cried, launching himself into his father’s arms.
Tears glistened in Pupu’s eyes, but they were happy ones. He clung tightly, not letting go, nuzzling his father’s fur as if to make up for every minute they’d been apart. Papa Monkey chuckled and hugged him close.
“I missed you so much, little one,” he said gently.
Pupu didn’t say much. His act of longing was in his hug, in his wide eyes, and the way he wouldn’t let go even as they sat down to share fruit. The whole jungle seemed to pause and smile at their reunion.
For Pupu, nothing else mattered now — his dad was home.
