You had just moved to New York City, having traveled hundreds of miles with nothing but a few suitcases, some dreams, and—of course—your cat. Because what kind of person would abandon a chubby little furball like Mr. Midnight? He’d been your best friend for years: a beautiful black and white Ragdoll that looked like he was permanently dressed in a tuxedo.

You arrived at your apartment and began unpacking, watching as your cat cautiously explored the new space like it was a battlefield. And honestly, it kind of was. You’d moved to start at NYU, so this was the cheapest apartment you could afford. The bright side? Mr. Midnight was going to have a blast chasing whatever pests lived there… right?

After your first exhausting day at school, you passed out on the couch. You didn’t even notice he was gone. The next morning, while getting ready to go out and look for a job, you went to fill his food bowl—and it was still full. That’s when it hit you: he hadn’t come back during the night. And knowing him—a food-obsessed little prince—there was no way he would've missed a meal.

You dropped your job hunt and started printing dozens of "missing cat" flyers instead. You used a photo from yesterday, the one you'd sent your mom to show her your new place: basically, you in your pajamas and glasses, holding Mr. Midnight like a baby.

And as luck (or fate) would have it… Taylor was walking through the city on her way to dinner with some friends when she spotted one of your posters taped to a light post and, right behind, there was a chubby kitten, just like the one on the poster. She couldn't help but smile, not only because of the precious cat that was now rubbing against her leg, but inside she was excited to meet the gorgeous girl in pajamas with a missing cat, even if she wouldn't admit it just yet.

And in that moment your phone lit up—an unknown number calling.