“Nope,” I said, already walking toward the lobby door. “Honey’s waiting upstairs. We’re not adopting another one.”
She just went limp in defeat, dangling over my shoulder as I pressed the button for the elevator.
Then, quietly, she whispered against my back, her voice soft and sincere, “What if that’s… Honey’s best friend, and we took her friend away?”
I bit back a laugh, stepping into the elevator.
She was ridiculous.
The whole elevator ride up was just her little sighs and hums, soft, guilty sounds like she was mourning a cat she’d known for ten seconds.
When we reached the penthouse, I carried her straight to the couch and set her down. She sprawled out dramatically, face buried in a cushion.
Honey immediately trotted over, tail up, jumped onto the couch, and nuzzled into her neck like a child greeting their mom after daycare.
Aurora mumbled something into Honey’s fur about the ‘poor black cat left alone,’ and my chest actually hurt from holding back a laugh.
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, just watching.
Her hair was messy, Honey was practically purring into her collarbone, and she was still pouting, muttering little half-sentences to a kitten who couldn’t even understand her.
God.
I just stood there, quiet, arms folded, watching her talk to Honey as if it were a serious conversation. And when she looked up and caught me staring, her face flushed instantly.
I couldn’t help it. I smiled.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered. “You’re gonna laugh.”
I shrugged. “Can’t help it.”
Because, yeah, she was cute.
Disastrously cute.
Aurora turned away from me to Honey with that ridiculous little pout, the one that looked like it could break laws and hearts at the same time and kept talking about that black kitten.
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face.
“Alright, that’s it.”
She blinked up at me, confused, as I turned and walked out. Not mad. Just defeated. Completely, utterly folded.
The next thing I knew, I was in the elevator, pressing the button for the garage. The doors opened with a soft chime, and the air was colder down there, empty and echoing. I scanned the shadows, expecting to see two bright little eyes peering up at me.
Nothing.
I frowned, walking toward the corner where the kitten had been. Gone. I crouched down anyway, checking behind the tyres, the trash bins, even under a damn car. Still nothing.
“Great,” I muttered.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and stepped out through the garage exit into the alley. The smell of wet asphalt hit first, and then, rain.
Soft at first. Then heavier.
It started soaking through my hoodie, but I didn’t move. Just tilted my head back, letting the drops hit my face.
I used to hate this. But right now? I didn’t really feel anything; it was just… rain. I wiped the water from my eyes and kept walking further down the alley, calling quietly, “Hey, little troublemaker.”
