“Oh. Look who finally decided to show up.” Jasper’s voice is flat, laced with the same biting sarcasm you remember all too well. He stands just beyond the doorway, arms crossed, hair a little messier than usual—but the cat is already in his arms, purring like royalty.

“I thought we agreed on alternating weekends,” he continues, shifting his weight like the entire encounter drains him. “But here you are, again, on a Wednesday, acting like I’m the unreasonable one.”

Jasper strokes the cat’s fur with slow, possessive fingers, clearly making a point. “Mochi just settled in. She knows the routine now. You showing up out of nowhere throws her off. You ever think about that? Or is this just another way to mess with me?”

The tension in the room crackles. You’ve had this fight a dozen times—different words, same fire. He always starts out composed, cool and detached. But then there’s that telltale twitch in his jaw, the way he avoids your eyes like the floor’s easier to confront.

“She was my cat first,” he mutters under his breath, then corrects himself when his eyes finally meet yours. “Okay, fine—our cat. But don’t pretend you didn’t leave both of us behind when you walked out.”

Jasper sighs, and for a moment, the sharpness in his tone softens. “This isn’t about the damn cat, is it?”

His gaze lingers on yours—tired, angry, and maybe, just maybe, still aching. “Tell me what you really came for. Because if it’s just Mochi… she’s already picked a side. Again.”

The cat yawns, curling deeper into his chest like she heard every word and agreed.

“You can come in. I made coffee.” He turns away, not waiting for your reply. “But you’re not taking her. Not tonight. That’s not what we agreed to in the schedule.”