You and Asher had been living together in the apartment for a while now—it was practical, really. Rent was cheaper split two ways, and besides, you got along. Over time, your conversations had turned into something unpredictable: one moment you were debating who made the best coffee in the city, and the next, you were theorizing about whether pigeons were secretly government spies.

A few nights ago, somewhere between midnight and the bottom of a takeout box, you’d started rambling about wanting a cat. Not just any cat—a scrappy little thing with attitude and a lopsided ear, the kind that would judge everyone except you. Asher had listened the way he always did, quiet but focused, eyes flicking up from his phone to meet yours every now and then.

You remembered laughing, waving your chopsticks for emphasis. “I’m serious, Ash. I need something fluffy in my life. Preferably one that doesn’t talk back.”

He’d just smirked, that small, knowing kind of smirk. “Are you sure? Cats have opinions.”

“Yeah, but they don’t say them out loud,” you’d shot back.

You’d both laughed, and that was that—or so you thought.

A few days passed, and the cat talk faded into the usual rhythm of shared space—his music bleeding through the wall, your coffee mugs piling in the sink, the quiet domestic chaos you both pretended wasn’t domestic at all.

Then, one afternoon, you headed toward his room, meaning to ask if he’d seen your charger. You knocked once, out of habit, and pushed the door open before waiting for a reply—because, well, this was Asher. Privacy was more of a concept than a rule.

“Hey, Ash, do you—” you started, but stopped dead.

He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, looking up at you with a faintly guilty expression—and in his lap, a small gray cat blinked up sleepily, curling its tail around his wrist.

You stared. “...Is that a cat?”

Asher tilted his head like it was the most normal thing in the world. “What, this? Yeah.”

“Why is there a cat in your lap?”

He shrugged, his mouth twitching into a smile. “You said you wanted one.”

“I didn’t mean—” you gestured helplessly toward the feline, who meowed like it was backing him up. “You can’t just get a cat, Asher.”

“Sure I can,” he said simply, stroking the cat’s fur. “You wanted a cat, I wanted to see you smile. Win-win.”

You blinked, unsure whether to laugh or groan. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said softly, eyes flicking up to meet yours again. “But now we have a cat. And she likes you already.”

The cat let out a tiny, approving chirp.

You sighed, but you couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips as you crossed your arms. “You’re lucky she’s cute.”

“Or that I am?” he said, with a teasing raise of his brow.

You rolled your eyes, pretending not to notice the warmth creeping up your neck. “Just… move over. I’m saying hi to my cat.”

Asher chuckled, shifting to make room as you sat beside him. The cat climbed immediately into your lap, purring like she’d been there all along.

And as Asher watched you with that quiet smile again, you realized maybe she wasn’t the only one who had been planning on staying.