LiBi was never the type to seek attention. Among the troop of playful young monkeys, she was quiet, often clinging close to her mother or observing others from the sidelines. But something had changed recently. Ever since Dan, a confident and curious young male, had started exploring the outer edge of the forest near the rescue center, LiBi had been watching him.
Dan was known for his bold personality. He climbed the tallest trees, swung fearlessly between the thinnest branches, and often stole fruit from the basket before the keepers even noticed. The others admired him, especially the younger ones who followed him around like he was a natural leader. But LiBi didn’t try to join him—at least, not at first.
One quiet afternoon, while most of the troop was napping or grooming in the shade, LiBi slipped away. She had spotted something earlier that morning: a bright red fruit high in the tamarind tree, way out on a branch most monkeys avoided because it was too thin and risky. But LiBi had been practicing. Every day for the last week, she had quietly climbed that tree, moving out a little further each time. She knew the keepers often watched the more dominant monkeys, but no one paid attention to her. That made it easier.
Dan, lounging nearby, noticed her movement. At first, he didn’t think much of it. But then he saw where she was going—out onto the dangerous branch. His interest piqued. “What’s she doing?” he murmured, tilting his head.
LiBi took her time. Her small hands grasped the branch carefully, her body steady. The troop had gone quiet, sensing something unusual. Even a few humans nearby had noticed her daring move. Inch by inch, she crept forward, eyes focused on the fruit. Dan stood now, watching closely. He had tried for that fruit once and given up—too dangerous.
Finally, LiBi reached it. With a careful twist, she plucked it free and looked back. She saw the wide eyes of her troop. She saw Dan, standing tall, stunned. And then—just to make sure he saw—she took a slow bite.
The crowd erupted in excited chatter. Some of the younger monkeys clapped their hands, while the older ones hooted in surprise. LiBi, usually invisible, had just done something no one else had dared.
Dan walked over slowly as LiBi climbed down. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then Dan gave a soft hoot of approval and gently touched her shoulder—a quiet sign of respect in their language. From that day on, Dan didn’t lead without glancing back to see if LiBi was following.
She had proven something not with strength, but with patience, courage, and calm. And Dan, for the first time, truly saw her.
