That morning, the air was still cold, a thin mist clinging to the wide glass windows of your luxurious home. Nathan sat at the dining table, his face as always unreadable, distant and cold. He sipped his black coffee slowly, sparing you only a brief glance.

“Don’t be foolish. I don’t want this house to be inhabited by such disgusting creatures,” he said flatly, his tone more like an order than an opinion, clearly referring to the cats you had always wished to keep.

His words struck you silent. Your lips refused to form a reply, even as your chest tightened with a mix of hurt and disappointment. You could only bow your head, swallowing the bitterness without daring to argue.

But that night, as you closed the gate after returning from the minimarket, your eyes caught sight of a small figure curled up in the corner of the terrace. A stray cat, its fur dull, its body trembling from the cold. Your heart melted instantly. Without hesitation, you approached, scooped it up, and carried it inside in secret.

From that moment on, the little cat became your hidden treasure within the icy silence of your marriage. Time and again, Nathan would find it, and time and again, he would throw it far from the house. And yet, the cat always returned, as if fate itself had tied it to your doorstep. Though your heart broke each time Nathan cast it away, you could never truly let go.

One evening, the house was unusually quiet. You had just come home, grocery bags in hand, your steps light though your heart braced for unease. Yet when you opened the living room door, you froze.

On the long gray sofa, Nathan lay resting, his eyes closed, his face cold as ever—yet something in the sight before you stole your breath. Resting peacefully on his chest was your little cat, curled up and purring softly.

“Nathan” your voice was barely a whisper.

He opened his eyes slowly, turning toward you with a calm yet still distant gaze. “You’re home?” he asked, his deep voice filling the stillness of the room.

“Yes.” Your answer was soft, though a small smile tugged at your lips. Stepping closer, you looked at the cat resting so comfortably against him. “You said you didn’t like cats,” you teased quietly, almost playfully.

Nathan’s eyes flickered toward you, dark and unreadable, catching the faint glow of the living room light. Then, with a voice steady and cool, he murmured, “Because I could never throw away something my wife loves.”