Chapter 1
Three years after my death, I find myself reborn as a scrawny stray cat, fighting to survive in a world I used to know.
Just as I am dying, my boyfriend, Daniel Hayes, appears like a guardian angel. He shields my broken body from the biting blizzard and the brutal blows of strangers.
His voice is a gentle murmur. "Hey, little one. How about I take you home?"
I have convinced myself that he has managed to move on after I passed until I stumble upon his diary.
The pages reveal a devastating truth: from the very day I died, he has been living in his own personal hell.
*****
The snowflakes, fat and wet, clung to my fur, biting straight to the bone.
I found shelter under a bike shed, curling into a shivering ball. I wrapped my tail around myself, a useless defense against the bitter chill.
It was freaking freezing. I was so cold.
It turns out all those heartbreaking online posts were right. Most strays don't make it through the winter.
I could feel my own strength fading.
A boot slammed into my side, sending me sprawling out into the open. "Scram! Go die somewhere else."
I landed in a snowdrift, the icy powder swallowing half my body.
As my vision blurred and the world began to dim, a single tear froze on my cheek. I just couldn't accept this.
I begged for food, dodged kicks and curses, and fought tooth and nail with other strays.
After all that, I had finally made it back to our old apartment building. I wasn't ready to die.
I still hadn't seen him.
But the man wasn't finished. He stooped, grabbed a jagged rock, and started toward me with cruel intent.
A year on the streets had taught me a thousand ways to escape the clutches of humans, but my tank was empty.
I didn't have the energy to run.
A blinding white had swallowed the world.
I was just about to close my eyes and surrender when a flash of brilliant orange sliced through the blizzard.
Three years had gone by, but he was still wearing that puffer jacket I bought him.
I remembered the look on his face when I gave it to him. He playfully groaned.
"Seriously? A color this loud? For me?"
The man with the rock saw Daniel Hayes, hesitated, and then shuffled away with a sullen look.
My eyes fluttered open and closed, struggling to focus, but I finally lasted long enough to see him.
He knelt, tilting his umbrella to shield me.
In that small gesture, he blocked out the storm and all the cruelty the world had thrown at me.
His voice was the same gentle melody I remembered.
"Kitten, you want to come home with me?"
I knew it. That was my kind Daniel.
To him, it wouldn't make a difference if I was just a dirty cat. His instinct would be to protect me.
He unzipped his jacket and tucked me inside, pressing me against the warmth of his chest.
His familiar warmth and scent was all it took to bring tears to my eyes.
My heart screamed, "I missed you so much, Daniel. I'm so glad to see you again."
But all that escaped my lips was a weak "meow."
He smiled as his warm hand stroked my head. "There we go. Warm now, you little thing?"
Winter had been lean. With no scraps to be found, I was nothing but skin and bones.
I must have looked hideous.
He carried me back to the home we used to share.
Three years had gone by, but he was still here.
Nothing had changed. It was the same pink rug, the same apricot-colored slipcover on the couch, and the endless little trinkets I had compulsively ordered online.
Everything was exactly where I had left it.
I remembered how Daniel made a hundred trips to the lobby for my packages when we first moved in.
He put on a show of being annoyed, grumbling, "No more, Emily! We're going to have to build an extension." But he always headed downstairs for the next delivery with a secret smile.
He set me down gently on the couch, wrapping me in a soft blanket.
"What should I call you?"
I was Emily Brooks, your girlfriend.
I meowed.
He stroked my head, lost in thought for a moment. "How about Millie?"
My breath caught.
That's what he used to call me.
"Millie, breakfast is on the table. Eat it when you wake up."
"Millie, where's the laundry?"
"Millie..."
My paws started to dance with happiness, batting at him again and again.
He stood and walked to the kitchen.
I desperately wanted to follow, but my body wouldn't obey.
Then, the rich scent of cooked chicken breast filled the air, and he was back with a plate in his hand.
He patiently shredded the meat into tiny, bite-sized pieces and offered them to me.
I was starving, but I ate carefully, nibbling from his fingers.
My new teeth were sharp, and the last thing I wanted to do was accidentally hurt him.
The plate was clean in an instant. I collapsed in a contented heap, purring as he stroked my fur.
He looked exhausted from his day. It wasn't long before his eyes drifted shut, his breathing evening out into the soft rhythm of sleep.
Carefully, I rose and began to explore the room.
I leaped onto the desk, and my gaze was immediately drawn to the wall.