Chapter 2

That night, I couldn't sleep.

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying all those "conversations" from earlier that day on a loop. Muffin's cool, cutting remarks paired perfectly with Sunny's clueless but deadly follow-ups.

All the cozy little moments I had taken for granted might look completely different from their side.

All the love I thought they were giving might have been a misunderstanding.

Muffin loved kneading. She often jumped onto my lap and pressed her front paws into me, rhythmically, purrs rumbling.

I had always thought it meant she loved me. I'd even posted about it online: [Getting 'biscuits' from my cat is honestly the most healing moment ever.]

But now that I thought about it...

I perked up my ears. As expected, faint voices drifted in from the living room.

Sunny asked, "Why do you always knead on her?"

Muffin replied, "She thinks I love her. I'm really just trying to get the litter off my paws."

Sunny asked again, "I see. Then why does she get so happy?"

"Humans love to get sentimental over nothing," Muffin said.

Then, they laughed.

I quietly buried my face in the pillow.

So that was it. So that was really it.

*****

The next day was Sunday. I decided to pretend I knew nothing and see what shocking things those two little monsters would say next.

That morning, I made a show of complaining right in front of them. "Ugh, you two shed so much. I'm exhausted from vacuuming every single day." Then I listened in.

Sunny said, "She says we shed too much."

Muffin replied, "At least we've still got fur to lose. She's practically going bald."

I instinctively touched my hairline.

"Really?" Sunny asked.

"Just look at the floor after she brushes her hair," Muffin said. "There's more than what we shed."

Both of them laughed.

Then, Muffin said, "Shh, she's looking over."

I quickly looked away, vacuumed way harder than usual, and then grumpily made food for the two ungrateful brats.

*****

At noon, I got a text from the bank. My salary had come in. After tax, it was: [$3,206.18]. I stared at the number and sighed. My performance bonus had taken a serious hit this month.

Sunny said, "Guess what? Our human got paid today. The message said: [$3,206]."

Muffin replied, "I thought it was a verification code."

I was speechless. Fine. Great.

That afternoon, I called a friend. "Let's take Sunny to the pet park this weekend. He needs to socialize."

After I hung up, Sunny said, "She says I need to socialize."

Muffin said, "Funny. The only person she's talked to lately is Chloe."

I was emotionally wrecked. Then, Sunny rubbed against my leg. I squatted down and ruffled his head. He looked at me with bright, eager eyes, but I heard what he was really thinking. "I do want to go to the park. But I want to stay with her more."

My heart softened. Then Muffin immediately killed the mood. "It's only because she's got nobody else. Kinda sad, honestly."

I quietly accepted the hit.

*****

That evening, I decided to "go for the kill." I squatted in front of Muffin and Sunny, my face serious. "I need to tell you something."

Both furballs looked up at me.

"Tomorrow," I paused, "I'm taking you to get neutered."

The air froze. Sunny's tail slowly drooped. Muffin's ears flattened. I waited to hear what they would say.

Sunny asked, "Neutered... what does that mean?"

Muffin answered, "It means you'll be fixed."

"Fixed how?" Sunny asked again.

"It means you'll never get a girlfriend," Muffin replied.

Sunny was shocked. His voice trembled. "But I've never even dated."

I felt a twinge of guilt. But then, Muffin said, "What's there to be scared of?"

"Aren't you scared?" Sunny asked.

"We're just getting neutered," Muffin replied.

"And?" Sunny was baffled.

"She's the one no one wants," Muffin snarked.

"Huh?" Sunny just stared, baffled.

"Single for three years. Not a single date," Muffin went on.

Sunny couldn't hold it in and cracked up. Both of them laughed.

I took the blow in silence and slowly stood up. Alright. You win.

I walked out onto the balcony and took a deep breath. The night breeze brushed past me, and I couldn't help laughing. But the more I laughed, the stingier my eyes felt.

So this was how they saw me—bald, broke, deluding myself, a pitiful human nobody wanted.

Strangely, I didn't feel angry at all. If anything, it felt real. A little bitter, maybe, but real.

They had seen me at my worst, my most pathetic, yet every day they still waited for me to come home. They still nudged my legs when they were hungry. They still curled up quietly by my feet when I was sad.

Maybe that's what family was. Knowing all your flaws, mocking every little failing, but never once thinking of leaving.

I went back to the living room. Muffin and Sunny were already squeezed together in the cat bed. Sunny was too big, half his body hanging out, and Muffin curled on his belly. The two furballs rose and fell gently with each breath.

I squatted there and watched them for a long while. Then I whispered, "No more neutering. Let's just live like this, forever."

Muffin's ears twitched. Sunny's tail gave a soft wag in his sleep. I could hear their thoughts, soft and quiet.

Sunny said, "She said no more neutering."

Muffin replied, "Smart move."

Moonlight streamed in, and the three shadows on the floor slowly melted together.