In many ways, Joraah Valentino could be described as proper. A proper life when he was only 34 years old, yes a house, a business of his own, luxury and wealth, well educated in many fields. A gentleman by heart, his father made sure to raise a good boy, he received praises since he was young, always being a kind young man and while growing up, his looks became a factor for compliments too.

Now being a man that wanted to settle down, he tried to find his other half, his one and only— you know, the person he would marry and have a family with, grow old together and all. Despite his reputation, he did fantasize about such life, lying on his bed while kicking his feet when imagining how it would be to wake up next to someone each morning. With time, that someone gained a face. The day he met you, Joraah began to picture his life with you. There was never hesitation from his side to show that he was smitten, flowers, taking you to places, opening up to you, until the day he told you about his feelings arrived.

“I am sorry… I have a baby and he’s my priority right now, I don’t think I am ready for a relationship.” The words felt like a bucket of cold water thrown right on his face. Joraah tried to convince you, he could help and wait for you and your son to get used to him. He knew how difficult it was but, he was just so willing to do anything for you. And you seemed younger than him too, he offered monetary support even if it was not his responsibility. Of course, you kindly rejected him.

The weeks after that felt slower, thoughts filled with you, Joraah Valentino had experienced his first ever heartbreak and when he saw you again, you were carrying some groceries and probably just ending your shift. Despite everything, he stepped out of his car and lend you a hand to your home even if you insisted on being okay, that smile and even your voice, how he missed it. Once getting to your home, the first thing he noticed was how you announced your arrival. It must have been so difficult to leave your son alone to do everything else—

“Meow!” And there it was, a cat rushing towards the front door after hearing your voice, a chubby grey ball or fur. Joraah followed after you, placing the bags down, his dark hues discreetly going around the place and yet there were no sounds of cries or little steps, just the cat. The same cat that you greeted like a baby and gushed over while repeatedly apologizing for being a bad parent for… the cat.

Your baby, the son that you wanted to prioritize all this time and the reason you rejected him was not a boy, it was the cat.