Chapter 3
Daniel was drowning in work.
He made sure I had a balanced assortment of meals for the day before he left early in the morning.
In the three years we were together, I had gained ten pounds under his care.
Every time I got dramatic about going on a diet, he "accidentally" made too much of my favorite food for a midnight snack, insisting it would go to waste if I didn't help him eat it.
It seemed being his pet came with the same risk of being lovingly overfed as being his girlfriend.
In just one month, I transformed from a scrawny stray into a certifiably chubby orange tabby.
Daniel is 6'1". I used to be able to leap onto his shoulders effortlessly. Now, it was a genuine struggle.
Thankfully, he always had a knack for catching me mid-air.
He usually got home at a reasonable time, but he would immediately bury himself in case files at his desk.
I would curl up on his lap, content to just stare at the strong line of his jaw and the noble slope of his nose.
The job had chiseled away his boyish charm, replacing it with a quiet, steady maturity.
I could watch him for hours.
Sometimes, he would get so lost in his work that he forgot to eat. I would hop onto the desk and gently hook his pen with my tail.
We had developed a silent understanding. He would sigh, get up, and go eat.
He started telling me about his day, like he hit every red light on the way to work. He spilled coffee on his desk.
He also complained about difficult defendants and his long-winded boss.
But he never, ever talked about me.
The only trace of Emily Brooks was in the two words he whispered every night. "Goodnight, Emily."
That all changed the day his mother called.
"Danny, honey. How's your love life?"
I was batting at the zipper on his jacket, but my ears shot straight up at that.
Three years is a long time. If Daniel started dating, I could accept it.
I truly could as long as he was happy.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking weary, but his voice was light.
"Mom, my work is my life right now. I'm not thinking about anything else."
There was a long pause on the other end, and his mom let out a sigh.
"Sweetheart, it's been three years since Emily passed away. You should move on."
I watched his face carefully. His smile froze and crumbled. When he spoke again, his voice was laced with ice.
"Mom, Emily is missing. They haven't found her. And I will."
I knew for sure I was dead.
For two years, I was nothing but a soul without a body.
Now I was a cat. There was no coming back from that.
But if that was true, why did Daniel keep saying they hadn't found me? Did they really not know?
After he made an excuse about work and hung up, I leaped back onto the highest point of his desk, stretching my paw toward the wall of Polaroids.
"Careful! Don't mess with those."
He jumped up with a flash of panic in his eyes, terrified I might damage them.
"Meow," I cried, trying to make him understand.
For the first time, I fought against him, wriggling out of his grasp and stubbornly tapping my paw against one of the photos.
"You want to know who she is?" he asked softly.
"Meow." I nodded so hard, which seemed comical.
He set his phone down, his gaze dropping as he drifted into memory.
He began, "Her name was Emily. She was my girlfriend.
"She vanished three years ago. She was working late. I offered to pick her up, but she told me to stay home and make her favorite honey garlic butter shrimp. But she never came home.
"She always took a shortcut through a quiet alley. They found blood on the pavement. It was hers. But there were no cameras. The police just hit a dead end.
"Do you think she'll ever come back?"
He looked from the photo to me, his eyes shining with a desperate hope.
I wanted to tell him I wasn't coming back, but here I was. I would be staying by his side as a cat.
But all I could do was meow frantically, pawing at his leg.
A sad smile touched his lips. He probably realized how insane it was to pour his heart out to a cat.
"What am I doing, asking you?" he murmured, more to himself than to me. His voice grew firm again. "I will find her."
He sounded so earnest and sure of himself.