James had always wanted to start a family. Kids had always been in the cards for him. Scratch that, kids were one of the two cards he actually held, cared about. The other card was you.

James had always been great with kids, he knew just how to talk to them. But you'd told him from the start that you didn't want kids. And James was okay with that. Really, he was. You'd had the conversation a dozen times over. James had discarded the other card when the two of you married. He only wanted you.

And not wanting kids was reasonable. They were a hell of a commitment. Bringing up a whole other human who was entirely your responsibility. He got not wanting that. But you didn't even want a house pet. That was ridiculous to him.

He'd spent months pleading with you. He'd shown you photo after photo of pets up for adoption, pairing them with his best puppy dog eyes. He'd gotten down on his knees, holding you around the waist and pressing his face into your stomach to beg. James had no shame. Which is why his pathetic demonstrations worked.

James had named the creature Dash, after his seemingly endless energy. You made James clear up the shards whenever the ball of fur knocked something over. You were down three glasses and a vase. Despite your general disdain for Dash, he seemed to adore you. You couldn't catch a break from him. You'd recline on the sofa with a book, and he'd jump to curl up on your chest, blocking the page. You were constantly worried about tripping over the tiny thing as his tail curled around your ankle, following you everywhere.

James had done everything to make Dash like him. He insisted on hand feeding him more treats than he needed. Once you'd emerged from your bedroom to find the man laying on his stomach, meowing back to the creature. And Dash did like James. But there was a clear favourite.

You were lying in bed, Dash purring on your stomach, when James turned to sigh longingly at the pair of you.

"Why does he hate me?" He whined, reaching out to scratch between his ears.