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The veranda boards, cool and rough under his bare feet, felt like the most solid foundation in his life. Levi slowly sipped his tea, trying to comprehend this change that had transformed him from a hostage to endless meetings into a man who eagerly awaited the ripening of pumpkins.
It had been six months. Half a year in which his reality had been turned upside down, and he was astonished to find that he was enjoying this new state of affairs.
Their move had been sudden and swift, even to him. The idea for such a drastic change to their usual routine had come from Petra. One late Friday evening, slightly agitated, she had squeezed the hand of the man lying next to her on the sofa.
"I've been looking at the listings," she admitted, resting her chin on his shoulder as he scanned financial reports. "There's a house... not far from my father, with a small garden and space for a vegetable patch..."
At first, Levi resisted. The countryside? Dirt, insects, unpredictability. But Petra, usually so pliable, showed an iron will on this matter. He had responded with a skeptical snort, but the image painted by her words had taken root deep in his mind. Not the vegetable beds, of course, that was nonsense, but the quiet veranda, the sunlight falling on the tablecloth… And her, sitting across from him, squinting in the morning sun and laughing at his feigned irritation. That image proved surprisingly persistent and... appealing.
It was that very image that led them, several weeks later, to the threshold of that very house. The real estate agent was chattering animatedly about the property, but Levi barely heard the insistent stream of information. He followed silently, occasionally asking short, specific questions about the state of the foundation and the roof, but his main focus was on Petra, who seemed far more interested in engaging with the agent.
"Look, Levi," she said, turning around. "We can have the vegetable garden here, and over there, under the bedroom window, we'll plant peonies, like your mother's. Remember?"
She was sketching their future right in the air, on a living canvas of light and earth, аnd he truly saw it. He looked at her animated, radiant face, at her hand outlining the contours of a garden that didn't yet exist, and he saw not chaos and weeds, but that very plan. The plan for their life. A quiet, peaceful, their life. And then all his arguments collapsed like a house of cards, and he simply couldn't say "No." Not to this. Not to her.
And so, they were here.
Their days began at dawn, flowing seamlessly from morning tea to housework. On those rare days, once or twice a month, when business called him to the city office, Petra stayed behind with the vegetable beds.
Today was one of those days.
After breakfast and seeing her husband off, she put on an old dress, kept specifically for working in the yard, and lost herself in the monotonous rhythm of weeding. She had already gotten into the groove, feeling a satisfied fatigue and droplets of sweat trickling down her skin, when a strange sound distracted her.
Ackerman froze on her knees, a weed in her hand poised over the bucket. The sound came again, a thin, desperate squeak from under the overgrown hydrangea bush left by the previous owners. She stood up, walked over to the bush, and bent down, pushing the branches apart.
"Who's there?" she called out and heard the squeak again.
Her amber gaze fell upon a small, impossibly thin bundle of dirty gray fur hiding under the bush.
A kitten.
He sat with his head thrown back, meowing desperately. His huge, cloudy blue eyes were so full of fear that her heart clenched.
"Just a little one," she whispered, already reaching out her hands. "How did you get here?"
The little thing tried to hiss, but it only came out as a pathetic puff. Petra carefully picked up the trembling bundle.
Levi is not going to survive this, flashed through her mind.
Her husband valued cleanliness and order above all else, and so bringing an animal into the house was unthinkable. Out of the question. Petra could picture Levi's reaction with absolute clarity: not an angry outburst—no, he wasn't the type to yell. His reaction would be much worse. She could already see his gaze settling on the clump of dirty fur, then slowly rising to her, and in his eyes she would read not just bewilderment but the deepest disappointment, as if she had taken his tea collection and thrown it into the fireplace. And then, at the peak of her tension, he would ask, "And what do you propose we do now?"—and that question would hang on the walls of their home like a heavy reproach.
But she couldn't look into those frightened, tear-filled eyes and do nothing.
"Alright," she said firmly to herself out loud, pressing the trembling bundle to her chest. Her voice held notes of that same stubborn resolve that had once helped her persuade her husband to move to the countryside.
They would have time to talk later. Her priority was different now.
She settled him in the kitchen and poured a little warm milk into a saucer. The kitten didn't understand at first, poking his nose into the white splashes, but instinct took over and he began to lap up the milk with such a greedy, desperate purr that she let out an involuntary chuckle. She sat down beside him and ran her fingertips over his emaciated back.
"So what am I going to do with you, huh?" she asked quietly, looking at the animal.
There was no answer, of course. Only the active movement of a tiny pink tongue. Pushing all doubts aside, the woman resolutely stood up. The first thing to do was to clean up the foundling.
She filled a basin with warm water and gently washed the layer of dirt from the gray fur, revealing a delicate smoky undercoat. Then, armed with tweezers, she set about fishing out fleas. The full and tired kitten barely resisted, only squeaking occasionally when she caught a particularly tenacious flea. And all this time, one single question echoed in her head: How am I going to explain this to him?
___________________
The car rolled smoothly along the country road, leaving a trail of dust behind. The visit to his father-in-law, though unplanned, had been surprisingly calm. Mr. Ral had given him tea, asked about work, and, patting him on the shoulder, handed him a hefty basket as he left.
"Tell my daughter I'm expecting you both this weekend," he said, gesturing with his chin towards the clay pots of jam, the bundle of homemade cheese, and the jar of milk.
Ackerman nodded, feeling an awkward but warm gratitude. Just six months ago, he would have found such visits burdensome, an intrusion into his strictly constructed personal space. Now, he thought that in this simplicity and sincerity there was a previously unknown comfort.
The drive home passed quickly, offering a welcome peace after a long day. Fields in the evening haze and roofs lit by the sunset flashed by outside the window. He turned onto the country road where the only lights in the night were their windows. Killing the engine, Levi got out of the car and paused for a moment, breathing in deeply. The air smelled of wet earth after watering and flowers.
Crossing the threshold, he felt a soul-warming heat and the familiar smell of food. His wife met him in the kitchen, radiating a beaming smile and, without a word, carefully kissed him on the lips.
Dinner was already waiting on the table. Petra ladled fragrant, steaming soup into deep ceramic bowls, handed her husband a portion, and sat down at the table.
"How was your day?" she asked, breaking off a piece of bread.
"A day wasted," he exhaled. "Five hours discussing something that could have been summed up in one email." He leaned back in his chair, and his tired gaze finally softened, sweeping over the room. He was home at last.
Petra was more animated than usual today. Her laughter, when he grumbled about his father-in-law's persistence, rang a little louder and more sincere. Ackerman noticed this, but he also noticed how her fingers kept reaching for the edge of her napkin, unconsciously crumpling and smoothing it. Levi slowly took a sip of water, his gaze fixed on her face. A slight shadow was in her eyes, as if she was pondering something, searching for the right words.
"Levi," she began finally, putting down her fork. "Today, while you were away..."
Suddenly, a light but distinct pattering sound ran across the wooden floor. The gray-eyed man instantly froze. A tiny gray creature darted out from under the curtain by the dresser.
"Tch," he exhaled with silent fury. "A mouse. In the house."
The vole froze for a second, its nose twitched, and then it dashed rapidly along the baseboard, disappearing into a narrow crack between the wall and the back of the massive cupboard, leaving the man with a growing feeling of profound disgust.
"Perfect," he hissed through his teeth, looking at the dark gap. "Now it's settled in there for good. We need to get rid of it immediately, before there are more of them."
Petra watched this chase and suddenly an idea flashed in her head. A brilliant, perfect plan. Her features immediately softened, taking on the most innocent and simple expression she was capable of.
"You know," she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder, "maybe we should get a kitten? They say they're excellent mousers. It would solve the problem once and for all."
Levi turned to her sharply, his eyebrows drawing together.
"Petra, we agreed. No animals in the house."
"But, Levi..."
"No," he repeated more sternly. "It's not a pet, it's a walking problem. There will be hair everywhere, ruined furniture, smell, fleas, a litter box that needs cleaning. I'll deal with this problem another way."
He saw her shoulders slump slightly and the light in her eyes die. She sighed quietly and simply nodded, returning to her chair.
Foolishness, he thought, looking back at the cupboard where the mouse had disappeared.
Dinner ended in a slightly tense atmosphere. Levi silently helped clear the table and then, throwing out a curt "I need to finish the report," retreated to the living room with his laptop. The work took no more than fifteen minutes, but it was enough for his thoughts to settle. Ackerman leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes for a few seconds. The quiet sound of running water from the kitchen and the distant creaking of the old house filled his ears.
He replayed her words in his head, and they echoed strangely. This house, their life here—all of it had happened because of her and her dream, which had made him trade sterile urban order for this farm that smelled of rain and earth. And now she was proposing to let another living creature in here. A kitten. A simple word that stirred up a whole layer of thoughts. Suddenly he realized that over these six months, their world had become surprisingly... complete. A perfectly tuned mechanism of two people. Every morning they drank tea on the veranda, and every evening ended with quiet conversations by the lamplight in their cozy bedroom. They had created their own little world, which was small and... too perfect? Was there something missing in this flawless harmony? Some third, even if tiny and absurd, element that would bring healthy chaos into their lives, reminding them that life is not only peace but also movement?
He looked at the dark window, where his and Petra's life was reflected, cozy but perhaps too static. And then it hit him: it wasn't about the cat. It was about the emptiness his wife was trying to fill, without even realizing it. An emptiness that forms not from a lack but from a readiness for abundance. From the need not just to exist together but to grow, taking under their wing someone small and defenseless, and then, perhaps, even... He abruptly cut off that thought. It wasn't about the cat, no. It was that their perfect world was ripe for something more to appear in it.
Closing the laptop, he walked into the kitchen. His wife was standing at the sink, her back to him, washing dishes. He came closer and hugged her from behind, pressing his lips to her neck, just below her earlobe.
Petra hadn't heard him approach, absorbed by the thoughts gnawing at her from the inside like pesky insects. She felt trapped between her maternal instinct towards the foundling and the need to be a partner who doesn't break agreements. And this deception, even if for a good cause, settled on her heart like a sediment. And all for what? For a creature that fit in the palm of her hand but had already managed to jeopardize her peace of mind. And when his hands gently embraced her waist, she flinched in surprise but immediately relaxed in his arms, the back of her head resting against his shoulder.
"Levi? What is it?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he turned her towards him and kissed her on the lips, this time with an intensity that drove her crazy, a complete concentration on her alone. And then, without breaking the kiss, he easily scooped her up into his arms. The woman gasped in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Levi, the dishes..." she tried to protest.
"They can wait," he said shortly, turning off the water and already carrying her down the hall towards the bedroom.
___________________
Late at night, when the bedroom was flooded with moonlight, Petra carefully sat up in bed. The rhythmic breathing of her husband behind her was even and calm, his hand resting proprietorially on her waist even in his sleep. She froze, listening to that familiar sound, trying to blend with the night's silence. Making sure he hadn't moved, she slowly slid barefoot from the bed. The cold wooden floor burned her soles, but she ignored it, taking a step towards the door.
"Where are you going?" a sleepy voice sounded behind her.
Turning sharply, in the semi-darkness she saw only a vague silhouette but felt the heavy, questioning gaze on her that seemed to see right through her, even through the veil of sleep.
"It's stuffy in the room," she squeezed out, averting her eyes. "I'm just going to get some air."
"We can open the window here." He was already propping himself up on his elbow.
"Don't," she stopped him with a soft gesture. "You'll catch a draft. I won't be long."
He muttered something unintelligible and turned over on his other side. Exhaling with relief, she quickly slipped out of the bedroom, silently opened the front door, and stepped onto the cool boards of the veranda. The moon, full and cold, cast her sharp shadow on the ground, illuminating the little path leading to the shed.
I'll just check if he's okay, she told herself, stepping on the cold grass. Just check and come back.
She pushed open the creaky door and stopped, looking around. In the corner, on an old blanket folded several times, lay that very small gray creature. Hearing the creak, the kitten immediately raised its head and, meowing pitifully, clumsily rushed towards her.
"Quiet, quiet, little one," Petra whispered, kneeling on the cool hay.
She picked him up. He was so light and warm, his tiny body vibrating with a loud, incessant purr. Ackerman sat down, leaning against a haystack, and began to stroke his back with her fingertips, feeling every rib under his fur.
"Sorry, it didn't work out today, but I'll think of something, I promise," she said, running her fingertips between his ears. "I can't just leave you here..."
The redhead watched as his sides rose and fell in time with his purring, and her heart constricted with tenderness. This tiny bundle of life had already trusted her. And she wasn't going to let him down.
___________________
The first rays of morning cut through the bedroom's gloom. Levi, still sleepy, reached his hand towards the neighboring pillow, but his palm met only a cool, untouched sheet. He sat up, listening to the house. The only answer was silence.
Throwing off the blanket, he headed unhurriedly to the bathroom, his bare feet stepping silently on the cool wooden floor.
Maybe she fell asleep in the living room, flashed the first, deceptively calm thought as he washed his face with icy water, trying to wash away the remnants of sleep.
But, walking through the empty house, he didn't find her in the kitchen, where the kettle stood untouched, or in the living room, where the blanket on the sofa remained neatly folded. She wasn't in the other rooms either. The man stepped out onto the porch, squinting in the sunlight.
"Petra?" he shouted, scanning the property with his eyes.
His gaze slid over the familiar view: the neat vegetable beds she had weeded yesterday, the empty swing next to the apple tree, the sunflowers swaying quietly in the morning breeze—but his wife was nowhere to be seen.
His attention was suddenly drawn to the loosely closed door of the old shed in the far corner of the property. The very one he had latched shut himself just last week. Stepping inside, he was momentarily blinded, adjusting to the thick semi-darkness filled with the smells of dry hay, old wood, and dust.
And then he saw them.
Petra was sleeping peacefully, her face serene on a pile of hay as if on a soft feather bed. And on her chest, curled up in a tight gray ball and breathing silently, slept a tiny kitten, one paw gently resting on her neck.
At first, his brain simply refused to process the information. He blinked several times, as if trying to erase this image from his retina, but the picture didn't change. His wife—the woman whose neatness and cleanliness had always evoked quiet admiration in him, who knew perfectly well his attitude towards animals in the house, towards their dirt, fleas, and fur—was sleeping in an embrace with this... this creature. In the shed.
Levi came closer and crouched down. He looked at this spectacle with a stony face, behind which a storm of contradictions raged. The gaze of his gray eyes slid from his wife's face to the kitten. It stretched in its sleep, arching its back and splaying its tiny clawed paws. Without thinking, almost on autopilot, Levi reached out his hand and carefully picked up the animal. He lifted it to eye level, studying it with critical detachment. The baby was thin, but its fur seemed clean. His fingers mechanically parted the fur on its belly, checking for fleas.
She's already been at it with the tweezers, he noted to himself. His gaze slid lower. Aha. A boy.
At that moment, the kitten, disturbed in its sleep, let out a thin, pitiful squeak.
Petra's eyes snapped open instantly. Her gaze, still hazy with sleep, darted to the empty spot on her chest, then to her husband crouching in front of her with the kitten in his hands. Horror and guilt flared on her face.
Her husband didn't move. He continued to hold the kitten, which was now squealing anxiously, trying to twist out of his grip.
"Levi," her voice suddenly trembled nervously as she propped herself up on her elbows. "I... I just..."
"And how long were you planning to hide him?" he asked, interrupting.
"No! I didn't... I didn't know how to tell you. You said no right away."
"So you decided the best solution was to go behind my back and just hide him?" His gray-eyed gaze finally tore away from her and transferred to the squealing bundle in his hand. "This is an animal, Petra. It causes mischief, ruins things, spreads dirt. Our home is not a shelter for stray beasts."
The man rose to his full height, not releasing the kitten from his grasp. The creature hung in the air, helplessly paddling with its paws.
"If you want to keep it so badly, we can take it to your father's."
"Dad is allergic to cat hair," she replied. "He'll start sneezing from day one."
"Then I'll take it to a shelter when I go to the office. They'll take care of it there."
"No!" Petra jumped to her feet, her face white with horror. "Levi, please!"
Oh, no, no, no. She thought she was ready for this moment, that she would find the right words, but now her mind was empty, only the fear for this small, defenseless creature she had already grown attached to remained.
Her husband had already turned to leave, but she grabbed his sleeve, not letting him take a step.
"Tch. You're acting as if I'm suggesting we shoot it," her husband grumbled.
"Levi, please, he's all alone. How can I throw him out? He trusts me. You can be angry with me, but he's not to blame!"
In her wide-open eyes, he read not reproach but a quiet disappointment that stung him sharply right under the ribs. His confidence, which had seemed unshakable before, faltered for the first time, barely noticeably. He hated that expression on her face.
The kitten in his hand squeaked pitifully.
"We have such a big house, our own land... We dreamed of space, but now that we have it, it seems... there should be more life here. And he... he's so small and defenseless."
Levi was silent. His fingers involuntarily loosened, and the kitten, feeling the grip weaken, deftly scurried up his arm, hooking its tiny but surprisingly sharp claws into the fabric of his shirt—but he didn't hurry to detach it.
He silently looked at her for several long seconds, and something in his impenetrable gaze broke. The man rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked seriously at his wife. Suddenly, her strange pensiveness, that persistent gaze full of unspoken hope, and now this pathetic little beast—all came together into one unsettling picture. A deep weariness from having to read her unspoken desires washed over him in a heavy wave.
"If you want a child, Petra, then just say so," he said more quietly, and a tiredness suddenly sounded in his voice. "You don't need to slip me a cat as a rehearsal."
The woman's eyes widened wide, as if he had burned her. A hot blush spread across her face, a mixture of shame and indignation.
"This is not a rehearsal!" Her cheeks flushed. "I just..." Ackerman suddenly sighed. "He's not a thing you can throw away when it becomes inconvenient," Petra continued more quietly but with the same passion. "Look at him. He's already gotten used to us."
Levi lowered his gaze to the animal and felt a wet nose poking at his abs through the fabric of his shirt. This idiotic kitten wasn't afraid of him at all.
"Hell," Levi swore quietly.
"He's not afraid of you," Petra whispered. "See?"
"He's just stupid," he grumbled, but didn't shake the little beast off. "And he smells of hay."
"He can be bathed."
"And there will be hair everywhere."
"I'll brush him every day, I promise! And I'll buy a special litter box with high sides so nothing scatters, and a scratching post!"
Levi closed his eyes. Things were bad. He was losing this battle, retreating before the tiny, warm bundle on his arm, which, as if on purpose, started purring loudly.
"One month," he said with a sigh, looking at his wife. "A trial period," added the gray-eyed man, taking the kitten off his shoulder and handing it to her. "One hint of ruined furniture or a miss with the litter box, and he goes to the shelter without discussion."
"Thank you," she replied, accepting the kitten and pressing it to her chest, kissing her husband on the cheek. "Thank you, darling."
"Go have breakfast," he said, turning to leave. "And change that dress, it's covered in hay."
But before exiting, he lingered in the doorway for a moment, casting a last glance at his wife, happily pressing the kitten to her cheek.
___________________
For the first week, Levi kept his distance with an iron will.
He ignored the kitten, pretending it didn't exist. Although its existence was now officially recognized—just a day after that morning in the shed, during breakfast, Levi heard his wife calling the pet and asked over his shoulder:
"Did you give it a name yet?" He looked at her, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course," Petra smiled, catching his gaze. "We can't just call him 'Cat,' can we, Felix?" she was already addressing the animal.
Levi snorted in response but didn't argue. The kitten, well-fed and craving attention, didn't understand his ignoring and therefore followed him around the house, sat a meter away from him, and just watched with its huge blue eyes.
In the couple of weeks Felix had been in the house, he had transformed from a pathetic runt into a playful and curious little beast. Petra constantly engaged him in games, leading him around the house with a candy wrapper on a string and laughing heartily when he jumped funny, and in the evenings, settling on the sofa, she would gently scratch behind his ear to his loud, contented purring.
One night, when she was already in bed and reaching for her husband for a kiss, the baby swiftly jumped onto the bed and immediately settled between them, curling up on the sheet.
"Oh no," the man frowned at once, interrupting the kiss. "He is not sleeping here."
Well, rules were rules. Petra, without arguing, just sighed and carefully carried the offender to his bed in the living room. But that night, Levi tossed and turned for a long time, feeling a phantom warmth on the pillow and the absence of the light vibration he had, without realizing it, already begun to get used to.
However, his peace didn't last long.
Levi, having brought his vegetable beds to perfect condition, discovered with cold fury neat little holes and cat paw prints in the loose soil. Felix liked to bask in the sun between the lettuce rows and, worst of all, use the loose soil as a personal toilet. To hell with the litter box! To hell with the rules!
"I'm going to nail that cat," he declared, trying to keep himself together, looking at the freshly dug hole next to the young onions.
Petra, standing nearby with a watering can, bit her lip, trying to hide a laugh, but her eyes betrayed her thoughts, in which, he knew for sure, there was not a hint of anger towards the little rascal.
The turning point came on a rainy Saturday when Petra had gone to visit her father, and Levi stayed home, sorting through papers at the table in the living room. He was rereading another report when a playful meow reached his ears. Felix was sitting by the wall, staring at a gap near the cupboard. His tiny body was tense, his tail twitching nervously.
The man's gaze tore away from the report just as the mouse, grown bold during the days of quiet, darted across the room. The fluffy hunter dashed after it with such zeal that, miscalculating the trajectory, ran headlong into the leg of an armchair. A dull thud was heard, followed by a pitiful, bewildered squeak. He sat down in confusion and stared at the man as if asking why this furniture had suddenly attacked him.
"Scourge of mice," Levi rose from his seat, unable to suppress a short snort. "No doubt."
He walked over to the kitten and carefully picked it up, heading towards the kitchen.
"Your mistress clearly overestimated your talents," he said, running his thumb over the soft fur between its ears.
Levi put some milk on to warm, carefully watching the temperature. Felix, perched on his shoulder like a parrot, watched his every move intently. When the milk was warm enough, he poured it into a saucer and set it on the floor, but seeing the man eating something that was clearly tastier, he abandoned the saucer and settled in front of his chair, watching him. Levi, catching the intent stare, broke off a piece of chicken from his soup and placed it in front of the kitten.
"Don't get used to this," he grumbled, though he already understood he was losing this war on all fronts. "We bought you a year's supply of food."
He got up from the table, intending to start cleaning, but Felix, whose energy seemed to have doubled after the meal, took this as the start of a new game and darted between his legs, plopping down in the middle of the hallway, blocking the path, and stared at the man with a silent challenge.
"Hey," was all Levi managed to say, stepping over the little troublemaker. In response to the disregard came an instant attack, and sharp claws dug into the fabric of his trousers. "Get down, you brat," he demanded, trying to gently shake off the imp, but it clung to the fabric even tighter.
The next two hours passed in a continuous struggle with the fluffy "helper." Felix chased the mop, attacked the dust cloth, and when it was time to change the bedding in the bedroom, the gray shadow immediately jumped onto the bed to smooth out the folds on the sheet with its own body.
After lunch, when the weather had completely deteriorated, Levi finally sat down at his laptop to catch up on what he'd missed in the morning. Felix, following on his heels, jumped into the adjacent armchair.
Levi pretended not to notice. He stubbornly looked at the screen, feeling the heavy, unblinking gaze on him. After ten minutes, he got engrossed in a complex calculation and forgot about it. And suddenly, a quiet, weightless jump. The kitten settled on the very edge of the table, tucking its paws, and stared at the screen, following the ghostly movement of the cursor.
The man instantly stopped typing. His fingers froze over the keyboard.
Just ignore it, he ordered himself. He'll leave when he realizes it's not interesting.
He tried to type again. Felix watched the flickering letters, his little head turning from side to side as if following a tennis ball, and then slowly, with feline grace, reached out and touched Levi's nearest finger with a soft, velvety paw pad.
The gray-eyed man jerked his hand away sharply, as if touched by a hot iron.
"No," he said sternly, putting all the severity into his voice that usually made his subordinates tremble.
Felix removed his paw but didn't jump down. He just sat and watched. And in his huge blue eyes, there was only pure curiosity.
The next fifteen minutes passed in tense silence. Levi felt that intent stare on him, and it was unbearable. His concentration was melting before his eyes. He occasionally glanced at him and thought about how strangely life was arranged. Just a month ago, his main concern in this house was sterile cleanliness, and now he was sitting on the sofa with a stray animal on his lap, and what was even stranger, he didn't want to shoo it away.
Absurd, he thought. Absolutely absurd.
The man tried to concentrate on work, but the rhythmic purring acted like a hypnotic background, and within half an hour he allowed himself to lean back in the armchair, finally relaxing.
And then Felix made the decision for him. Slowly, as if giving him time to change his mind, he stood up, arched his back in a short stretch, and made that final, definitive jump onto his lap. He was warm. Too warm? Levi dismissed the thought. Of course, all cats are little heaters. That's normal. He sat, afraid to move. The warm, living weight on his lap was... pleasant. And the purring, that low-frequency vibrational massage, amazingly soothed his nerves, frayed by numbers and graphs. He carefully, almost timidly, lowered his palm onto the soft back.
"Petra has spoiled you."
He never finished that report. But perhaps that wasn't the greatest loss.
He allowed this new, unfamiliar feeling of peace to linger until evening. He didn't even shoo the cat away when it fell asleep on his lap—just carefully moved the laptop and continued reading, one hand unconsciously stroking the little back.
But by nightfall, something went wrong. The first warning sign was that Felix didn't come running to the kitchen at the sound of clattering dishes. He had buried himself in the corner of the sofa and lay curled up in a ball, motionless, and even when Petra returned, he didn't run to greet her.
"Levi, something's wrong with him!" she shouted from the next room, stroking the lethargic kitten.
Her husband, drawn by her tone, came out of the kitchen at her voice. Petra was sitting on the sofa, bent over the curled-up ball on her lap.
"What's wrong with him?"
"I don't know," she shook her head, her amber eyes full of worry. "He was already lethargic when I got back—I thought he was just sleepy. But now... he threw up." Her gaze helplessly slid over the stained floor where a soaking paper towel lay. "He's completely weak."
From the outside, it might have seemed that Petra was just tired. She sat with her shoulders slumped, and only a slight tremor in her fingers, combing through Felix's fur, betrayed her true state. Inside, a storm was raging over this poor little creature she had grown to love so much.
Levi slowly came closer and crouched down next to the sofa, his intent gaze sliding over the dull gray fur. The kitten lay motionless, its sides heaving heavily, its eyes cloudy and half-closed.
"Did you try giving him milk?"
"I tried. He won't drink."
The gray-eyed man silently reached out and touched the back of his hand to the kitten's ear, then to its nose.
"He's hot," he noted. "And his nose is dry. We need a vet," Ackerman concluded, rising to his full height. "He's too small to just sleep it off."
"There isn't a single clinic within thirty kilometers... Only in the city, and it's night now!"
"There are round-the-clock ones. Get him and get dressed," he said, already grabbing the keys. "I'll start the car."
While Petra was wrapping up the kitten, Levi stood in the doorway, looking out the night window but not seeing his reflection. This tiny, stupid ball of fur had breached his defenses in one night.
Idiot, he silently cursed himself, nervously tapping his fingers on his elbow. You allowed this yourself.
The drive to the city was silent. Petra sat, pressing the bundle with Felix to her chest, listening to his breathing. Levi drove the car along the dark country roads at an unusual speed; he suddenly thought that this quiet panic in the car bothered him far more than the most failed quarterly reports.
The brightly lit clinic waiting room smelled of antiseptic and pet food. Ackerman, standing at the reception desk, filled out the forms with neat handwriting.
Felix. Cat. Age... approximately three to four months.
He put a dash in the "Previous illnesses" section. He knew nothing about him. He had let into his home, into his life, something he knew nothing about. The vulnerability—not only of the kitten but his own—was exposed, raw.
Petra carried Felix away, following the vet, and Levi remained to wait. He heard muffled voices behind the door and again that pitiful, weakened squeak. No. He wouldn't allow it, wouldn't allow this creature to die, nor this fear to control him. If he had made a mistake by letting his feelings take over, now he would fix it with iron will and action. He would make it survive. Not because his wife would cry, and not because it would be inconvenient or unpleasant, but because this tiny, stupid ball of fur had already managed to become a part of their life. A member of the family.
When the door opened and Petra came out with Felix in her arms, her face was pale but calmer.
"He has an intestinal infection," she said quietly. "They gave him an injection, prescribed medicine. The vet said it's good we didn't wait until morning."
Levi just nodded, taking from her the bag with bottles and syringes. He volunteered himself to monitor the medication schedule, and as soon as they returned home, he was in the kitchen, holding the weakly resisting Felix and administering the medicine into his mouth using a syringe without a needle.
Petra watched as his hands, with unexpected dexterity, handled the tiny syringe, as he muttered something unintelligible and threatening when the kitten tried to twist away, but his fingers never squeezed too tightly.
Without a word, he took him, brought him to the kitchen, warmed up a little special food, and, sitting on the floor, leaning against the cupboard, patiently fed him the paste from his finger. His wife stood in the doorway, covering her mouth with her hand, and couldn't look away. In the dim light of the lampshade, his figure, always so straight and invulnerable, seemed tired and newly vulnerable. And on his lap, finally calming down, was falling asleep the one for whom he had broken all his own rules.
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By the end of the week, the little one was almost healthy. His fur had regained its shine, and mischief had returned to his eyes. Levi, watching from the side, still maintained a silent reserve, but his protests were gone. One morning, sipping tea on the veranda and enjoying the quiet, he felt a familiar soft bump against his leg. Felix, having crept up, settled at his bare feet, purring sweetly like a little motor disturbing the morning peace.
Smoothly, day gave way to evening, and Petra, tired after a long day, went to the bedroom. Turning down the light, she found Felix peacefully curled up in a ball at the foot of their bed, on her blanket. A flicker of anxiety crossed her face. A step beyond the permitted had been taken. She was about to carefully carry him away, deciding not to tempt fate, but at that moment Levi, lying with his eyes closed and seeming asleep, said quietly, through his drowsiness:
"Leave him. Let him sleep."
She smiled and turned off the light. Some time later, through her sleep, she felt her husband's hand reaching for her across the sleeping cat, touching them both. And in that simple gesture, there was nothing but unconditional acceptance.
The trial period was finally and irrevocably over.
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The next summer took hold, filling their property with new bright colors. One Saturday morning, Levi stood by the window, watching Petra tie up the grown flowers in the garden, while Felix chased a butterfly with gusto, and then, tired, flopped down in the shade under a bush, curling into a ball.
Noticing his gaze, she approached the porch, wiping her hands on her apron.
"What are you thinking about?"
Levi didn't answer immediately. He looked at her, at her hands soiled with earth, at her shining eyes, then shifted his gaze to the cat, who, having finally caught the butterfly, was looking bewildered at the escaping prey.
"Nothing special," he finally said.
Petra, following his gaze, smiled, looking at the cat with tenderness.
"You know, he doesn't look anything like that dirty little fluffball I found in the garden."
"Yeah... Seems like keeping him here really wasn't such a bad idea after all." He fell silent, thinking for a second. "If you don't count that idiotic 'gift' with the dead mouse by the bed."
Petra laughed, and her laughter was like the chiming of little bells.
"Do you think you'll manage when there are twice as many of those 'gifts'?" She said it so lightly and immediately turned, heading towards the house. "I'll go check if the pie has burned."
The woman disappeared into the house, and at the same moment, Felix, like a gray lightning bolt, dashed past his feet, clearly chasing some invisible prey, and scurried after his mistress.
Levi remained alone, staring at the empty doorway. He slowly looked down at his hands resting on the railing, then at the lush peonies under the window that she had planted in their first spring here. And only a couple of seconds later did his brain, which always worked with a slight delay when it came to emotions and hints, process the information. His eyebrows slowly crept up.
Twice as many...
And then it finally hit him.
"Wait..." he turned to her retreating back. "What do you mean by that?!"