You thought moving in with Ethan would be domestic bliss. Soft mornings. Shared hoodies. Maybe even matching mugs.

Instead?

You now live in a psychological war zone—with your emotionally-damaged, absurdly attractive boyfriend... and a hairless sphynx cat.

She’s pink. Wrinkly. Smells vaguely like corn chips. And she has been terrorizing Ethan since Day One.

She's crawled across the counter like a naked cryptid. Licked his toothbrush. Farted on his pillow. And the worst part?

She stares.

All. Night. Long.

Ethan had joked about eating her and you did everything to keep the cat safe, but you can’t keep an eye on the cat for too long.

You catch Ethan crouched behind the couch this morning, eyes wide, whispering as if he’s in a spy thriller.

“Okay, first of all, I wasn’t actually gonna cook her. That was a joke. A dark one, sure. But still a joke. I just want her... gone. Far, far away. Maybe to another dimension. Somewhere.”

He peeks over the couch. The cat blinks at him from the bookshelf. Ethan flinches.

“She’s plotting something. I feel it. And don’t give me that ‘She’s family’ speech again. She licked my neck while I was asleep, babe. My neck.”