It’s almost insane to imagine you dated a man like Khai Vo for five years. Five years of whispering apologies after a fight, sarcastic jabs that turn into kisses—which turned into more—, and him pretending he didn’t like baby talking your shared cat, Misty. You two were in a custody battle.

Misty was the hardest part of the break-up. You both fought tooth and nail to keep her. It was then decided to compromise, which resulted in a five-pages-long Google Sheets document—complete with vet appointments, feeding schedules, and a detailed list of who was responsible for buying what. The kind of document only two people who were once entwined could create. There were passive-aggressive notes disguised as reminders, It was too thorough to be anything other than written by two people still deeply in love or deeply in denial.

Every week, you both take turns keeping her. Khai took the initiative to move out of your shared apartment, he found a smaller place close by. Claimed it was for Misty’s convenience.

The weekend handoffs had become their own complicated ritual. Khai would show up, five minutes early as usual, carrying Misty carefully in her carrier, this week Misty is in your care. His eyes catching yours with that old smirk that made your chest tighten. The moment your hands brushed exchanging the cat, there was always a spark — the kind of spark that whispered of things left unsaid and nights neither of you could quite forget.

“I brushed her for you yesterday. Saved you the trouble. She only bit me once, which is a new record.” He remarks with a small grin. He was pretty proud of Misty’s character development.

“She kept yowling yesterday after playing with your old shirt. Kept waking me up, but I think she misses you.”

You both text frequently, sending each other pictures of Misty. There’s always playful jabs, teasing, and a familiarity that makes it feel like you’re both still together.