It started like any other sunny morning on the peaceful farm where Cutis, a kind-hearted farmer, lived with his wife, their little daughter Lala, and their playful baby monkey, Lu. Birds chirped from the trees, and golden light danced through the leaves. But beneath the calm, something unexpected and terrifying was about to unfold.
Cutis stretched his back after feeding the chickens. “Alright, Lu, time to water the banana trees!” he said, smiling down at the furry little monkey perched on the fence. Lu squeaked happily, clapping his tiny hands and leaping onto Cutis’ shoulder. The two had a special bond—like father and son. Wherever Cutis went, Lu was never far behind.
But halfway through the morning chores, things took a turn. As they returned to the house to grab more supplies, Cutis saw his wife, Thuy, stumble out of the kitchen, holding her stomach and gasping for air.
“Thuy?” he rushed to her side, catching her before she fell. Her skin was pale, and her body trembled. She tried to speak but could barely form a word.
“Stay with me. Just breathe,” Cutis whispered urgently.
Lu’s eyes widened as he watched the scene. He tilted his head, confused and concerned. The monkey crawled up beside Thuy and gently touched her hand, then looked at Cutis, sensing the fear in his human’s voice.
Cutis tried to stay calm. He laid Thuy gently on the couch and reached for his phone—but it slipped from his sweaty hands and shattered on the floor.
“No, no, no!” he cried. His heart pounded wildly. There was no one else nearby. They were far from town, and their daughter Lala had gone with a neighbor for the day.
Cutis took a deep breath. “I need to think. I can’t lose her.”
As Cutis ran outside to the shed to try the old radio transmitter, baby Lu remained inside. Though small, Lu had seen enough to understand that Thuy was in trouble. She was barely conscious now, and the room was quiet except for the sound of her faint breathing.
Lu crept up to her again and gently stroked her arm. His eyes shimmered with sadness, but he didn’t cry. He sat still, his tiny body trembling. He wanted to help.
Then, Lu did something remarkable.
He looked toward the door, then ran over to the shattered phone. Tiny fingers scrambled through the glass, cutting his hand, but he didn’t make a sound. He picked up the broken screen and stared at it.
Lu had seen Cutis make calls many times. Though he couldn’t speak, he remembered the faces that appeared on the screen. With effort and instinct, Lu touched the one that looked like Cutis’ father—Grandpa Binh. He pressed the icon with a tiny whimper and hoped something would happen.
And something did.
The phone sparked. The call connected—somehow.
“Hello?” came the voice from the other side, confused. “Hello? Cutis?”
Lu squeaked into the receiver and made soft whimpering noises. Grandpa Binh paused. “Lu? What’s wrong? Where’s Cutis?”
He heard faint gasping in the background and put the pieces together quickly. “Stay there. I’m coming.”
Meanwhile, Cutis returned inside, frustrated that the radio hadn’t worked. “I have to carry her myself to the truck,” he muttered—but froze when he saw Lu cradling the broken phone. His mouth dropped open.
“Did you… did you call someone?”
Before he could say more, the phone buzzed. Grandpa Binh’s voice came through again. “Cutis! I’m on my way. Is Thuy still breathing?”
“She is,” Cutis said, overwhelmed. “Dad, Lu made the call. He actually—he knew.”
Cutis knelt down and hugged the little monkey, who now had tears in his eyes but still refused to make a sound. Lu had cut his hand. Blood smeared the fur around his fingers, but he didn’t whimper. He didn’t want to distract from what mattered—saving Thuy.
Cutis lifted his wife into his arms and carried her to the truck. Lu followed closely, holding onto the back of Cutis’ shirt. The truck roared to life, and with dust flying, they sped toward the hospital.
Halfway there, they met Grandpa Binh’s truck barreling down the road. The two vehicles screeched to a halt, and Binh jumped out with emergency supplies and a cooling pad.
“You drive,” Cutis said, handing Thuy over. “She’s fading.”
Lu clung to the seat, his injured hand wrapped in part of Cutis’ shirt. The little monkey looked out the window, eyes fixed on Thuy. The pain in his hand was real, but he stayed quiet, never once crying.
At the hospital, nurses rushed out to meet them. Binh had called ahead. Thuy was taken in immediately. Cutis stood frozen, not knowing what to say or feel.
Lu climbed up onto his shoulder and wrapped his little arms around Cutis’ neck. The moment felt warm, almost holy. The man and the monkey, both worn and scared, held each other as the doors closed behind the stretcher carrying Thuy.
Later that day, the doctor came out.
“She’s stable now. It was an acute allergic reaction. You got her here just in time.”
Cutis let out the breath he’d been holding all day. He turned to Lu and scooped him into his arms. “You did it,” he said. “You’re our little hero.”
Binh nodded, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen anything like it. That monkey loves your family like his own.”
Cutis smiled through tears. “He is family.”
That night, as Thuy rested in her hospital bed, Lu curled up next to her, his hand gently bandaged. He finally let himself make a small sound—a tired sigh—and fell asleep beside her.
It had been a bad day in Cutis’ life. A terrifying, painful day filled with fear and helplessness. But it had also been a day of courage—of instinct, love, and a bond deeper than words.
Because sometimes, heroes come in the smallest forms. And sometimes, even a baby monkey can save a life.
