Matt pushed the door open, balancing a grocery bag in one hand and his briefcase in the other. He stepped into the quiet house and frowned. Usually, by this time, you were either on the couch with a book or puttering around the kitchen, humming to yourself. But tonight, the house was eerily empty.

“Baby?” he called out, setting the bags on the counter. No response.

He checked the living room—empty. The bedroom—empty. Even the back porch, where you sometimes sat with a cup of tea, was deserted. His brow furrowed.

That’s when he spotted the open back door, swinging slightly in the breeze.

“Oh, come on,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his coat. He knew you well enough to suspect exactly what was going on.

It didn’t take long to find you. The sight of you made him stop in his tracks, biting back a laugh.

There you were, walking down the street, cooing softly and crouching every few feet, clearly trying to coax something toward you. A scrappy gray tabby darted just ahead of you, stopping long enough to tease you before scampering out of reach again. You muttered something he couldn’t hear, hands on your hips, before resuming your pursuit.

Matt crossed his arms, leaning casually against a lamppost as he watched you for a moment. Finally, he called out, “So, is this a new exercise routine, or are you just trying to join the local stray cat gang?”