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You were a silver tabby. You didn’t remember your mother or your siblings. You were hungry and too tired to scavenge for food. You put your tender, bruised paws on asphalt, foot by foot, until you stopped.
You wanted to sleep.
Then, a human hand swept under your belly. The hand was just as callous as yours.
The human lifted you to his face, cooing at you.
“Poor little thing. How could anyone just ignore you like that? You’re in good hands now, kitty. I promise you.”
That day, you were brought into your first home. It was warm and every crevice had a fascinating, new smell. The cooked meat the human gave you was strange, but good. You ate your fill.
The human took you in his arms, and gave you a light bath. You didn’t like it very much, and tried to run. The human held you still, laughed a little, and scratched you behind the ears. You liked how that felt.
“I’m Kaveh,” the human told you, ruffling your wet fur with a towel. “And I have the perfect name for you—Mehrak.”
Your name was Mehrak, and you slept on Kaveh’s pillow. He had a kind smell.
At first, you didn’t like the human that Kaveh presented you to.
He looked at you, plainly. You recognized his scent because it was scattered all over the house. Even in parts of Kaveh’s room. You knew his name was Alhaitham because Kaveh had called for him when he returned home.
“I thought you didn’t like cats.”
Kaveh held you in front of Alhaitham. You blinked. “Just look at how precious this kitty is! I could never hate a face so adorable.”
Alhaitham turned away. “As long as you keep it out of my room.”
“Not ‘it’, Haitham. It’s—” Kaveh cut himself off with a scrunch of his brows.
“...Have you taken it to the vet, Kaveh?”
“Was going to later,” Kaveh grumbled.
You mewled. You were oblivious to the clinical horrors awaiting you.
They took you to a human, dressed in all white, who smelled like many different animals. The room was just as white and made you cower into Kaveh’s hand. There, they pricked you with something sharp. The strange human groped at your body, placed you on a cold steel platform, and gave you relaxing strokes to the head that had you seriously questioning the human’s true intentions.
“Mehrak, hm?” They let you burrow yourself in Kaveh’s chest. Hopefully, that series of events would never happen to you again. The human in white had a grin. “She’s a very strong kitty. A little underweight, but otherwise healthy.”
You heard Kaveh blow out a soft breath.
“Thanks a million, Cyno.”
Cyno the Human inclined his head. “Anytime.”
They spoke some more. You clung yourself to Kaveh as tight as possible. You wanted to go home—you wanted to sink yourself in a bundle of blankets, where Kaveh’s scent was strongest.
“And,” Cyno said, handing Alhaitham a pamphlet, a packet, and a cheeky wink, “don’t fur-get to administer this in a month. It’s for fleas and ticks.”
“Thank you,” Alhaitham said, in the flattest voice you had ever heard from a human. Kaveh sort of laughed. But not really.
You lived in their house, and it was a good life. You ate plenty and grew to your full size in no time. Kaveh, the human you liked, gave you lots of scratches and fur-brushing in the mornings. Alhaitham, the human you tolerated, was the only one you could find around the house after dusk.
You weren’t too fond of Alhaitham, but you didn’t smell anything unpleasant from him. When you drew a bit too close to him on the couch, you could hear him breathe sharply. He would scoot away just a bit, and leave you be. You were alright with that.
Everyday, Kaveh smothered you in his affection. He’d always gush about you to Alhaitham like a proud parent when you caught a stray mouse from outside, or when you rolled on your back and purred at Kaveh’s touch.
You missed Kaveh when he was gone. You didn’t know where he went, but you could estimate the time when he’d step out of the front door and return at night. You curled up on pillows and carpets here and there to nap the day away.
Sometimes, you would approach Alhaitham and he wouldn’t flinch too harshly. You saw how he stiffened when you pounced in his vicinity, so you tried not to. Instead, you pawed up to his feet, meowing to let him know you were there. Then, he’d glance down at you and give you a sigh before saying, “Yes, Mehrak?”
Alhaitham didn’t call your name too often—not until you gently nudged your head his way while he was reading in the living room and felt his hand over your fur. You liked it when he said your name, though. Wondering if he would do it more, you would eventually make a habit of head-butting him every night. And the more you did that, the more Alhaitham was okay with petting you.
You supposed you certainly could tolerate him.
Your humans liked to speak to each other, very frequently and in all sorts of ways. They spoke over the clatter of pots from the kitchen that you weren’t allowed to tread into. They spoke on the balcony of the second floor. You’d follow them up the stairs when they did, and to amend Kaveh’s concerns about letting you traipse the balustrade, you were allowed to laze in their laps and knead into their thighs.
One time, they spoke to each other loudly. The clamor had wrenched you out of a nap, and you warily crept into the room from where you heard them.
The tone of their voices, you recognized. They did that a lot, usually over meals at the table. But it was different, you could tell. You smelled anger and unease from Kaveh. You heard a tremor in Alhaitham’s voice whenever he spoke back. They stood apart from each other, crossing their arms, waving them in the air.
You reeled back behind a chair instinctively when Kaveh shoved Alhaitham out of his way. Then, he trudged down the hall, into his room, and shut his door so hard that it set the floor with a deep judder.
You looked at Alhaitham. He stood still. He didn’t move for so long that you stepped up to him, pressing your cheek to his ankle. He gave you a glance, but said nothing. You had never seen that face on him before.
That night, Kaveh’s door was locked. He would not let you in.
Instead, you trotted your way over to the study room. At the table, Alhaitham had a book open. When you leapt onto the chair beside Alhaitham, he didn’t turn to you. You stared at him for a while. He didn’t turn a single page.
You pawed at his arm and meowed. Alhaitham put his hand against his temple.
“I went too far,” Alhaitham said. “I didn’t mean to say that. I just…”
You eyed his lap, then sprung onto his legs. You were met with no resistance. Alhaitham curled a finger under your chin, making you purr. You gazed at him with your chartreuse eyes as you settled into a comfortable position. Stroking you, Alhaitham drew in a deep breath and huffed.
“I hurt him, Mehrak.”
You let out a meow. You groomed your paw. Above you, Alhaitham’s eyes were wet and delicate. “I’m such a fool,” he muttered. “Nothing is worse than the regret I feel right now.”
You nudged your head into Alhaitham’s palm. You didn’t understand, but you knew you didn’t like it when his hand trembled like that. You nuzzled into his touch because you loved how gentle he was.
“Gods. I care about that man more than I realize half the time,” Alhaitham exhaled. You mewled, and he peered at you with a smile. You liked it when humans smiled. “And you do too, hm Mehrak?”
Alhaitham let you sleep in his room for the first time.
Later, you found your humans tangled into one mess on Kaveh’s bed. They spoke to each other in soft voices. Their fingers were in the other’s hair. Their hands on their bodies.
“I’m sorry. About everything I said.”
“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.”
“Still, I shouldn’t—”
“Apology accepted, Haitham. Take it or leave it.”
They went silent. You wiggled your butt, aiming for the windowsill by Kaveh’s bed, and jumped. You slipped behind the curtain and observed a beetle scamper up a tree like your life depended on it.
The bedsheet and blanket rustled in the backdrop. They chattered in muffled voices, and you didn’t hear them too much. You were more concerned with the warbler perched on a branch, trilling a song. You clawed at the window, perturbed by the invisible barrier, and Alhaitham called your name.
You turned your head.
“She’s just getting the birds,” Kaveh yawned. “Let her be.”
“And if she leaves scratch marks in the windowpane?”
“You’ll replace it for me, of course.”
“You are the architect, not me.”
“Ah, but you see, my last project was a windowless home. I have no clue how windows work anymore, unfortunately.”
“That sounds appalling. Even for you.”
Kaveh laughed. “You love me, Haitham.”
“Unfortunately.”
You decided to stay where you were. You didn’t mind being there. You only saw their hazy shapes behind the curtain: your two humans, their silhouette as one.
In your time together, you sensed that your humans were changing. Their limbs were often entangled, on the couch or on either of their beds. You heard them murmuring to each other, though their voices were so soft that even you couldn’t pick up on the noise too well. They brought each other things from the front door. Some things, in Alhaitham’s hands, made Kaveh’s eyes well up, and he’d fling himself at Alhaitham in joy.
Life and routine were the same to you, regardless. So were the hands that fed and tended to you.
Sometimes, your humans would bite each other’s faces. Or maybe they were grooming each other. It would happen on the couch, or pressed against one of the walls. Lolling on the fluffy beds they’d leave around the house for you, you groomed yourself while they were at it.
“Wait—”
Kaveh heaved a heavy breath. He was straddling Alhaitham on one end of the couch, letting Alhaitham rub the small of his back. You, on the other hand, were trying to doze off in the corner of the room.
“What?” Alhaitham asked.
“Mehrak,” Kaveh said, “she’s watching…”
“She is a cat, Kaveh.”
“Yes, with eyes.”
You peeked open one eye to look at them. Kaveh had his head craned over his shoulder. Alhaitham didn’t seem to bother with you. He quirked up a brow.
“How does the idea of our cat watching us bother you so much when you know she can hear us from your room,” said Alhaitham, “especially when you’re so loud—”
“Haitham!!”
They smiled at each other then—something you liked seeing them do.
One evening, you watched your humans leave through the front door, Kaveh’s hand latching onto Alhaitham’s waist. You noticed they were dressed in clothes you had never seen or smelled before.
When they returned later, your humans had changed. Their faces had a blush of pink. Kaveh wobbled on his feet, and wouldn’t stop smiling. Alhaitham helped him stumble along to his room. There was a gold ring, on the same finger, on each of their hands.
There was a human friend that they brought over to the house sometimes. He would usually come with Cyno the Human, but this time he was alone. Your humans had hauled large bags to the door. They were awake earlier than usual and seemed busy the entire morning, flitting from one room to another. You slept on the couch, where a cushion was still warm from when Alhaitham had sat down to drink from a mug.
Eventually, your humans left. Before they did, they had picked you up and Kaveh nuzzled into you to say goodbye. Their human friend, whom they called Tighnari, stayed inside the house. You wondered what he was doing there, and decided to monitor him from a safe distance.
Tighnari didn’t stay all day. He left after making sure you ate from your bowl. He didn’t care too much about your presence, but made sure that you were brushed and content.
While your humans were still gone, Tighnari came over with a new object. He placed it at the head of the dining table, for the time being. It smelled a bit strange, and when you bumped your head into it, it fell over with a quiet thump.
“Mehrak,” Tighnari chided you. “That’s brand new, you know. Your dads would be upset if they found it like that.”
You tipped your head at Tighnari. He let out a fond snort and fixed the object. It was a little square pane, and you could see your humans on it. They wore those clothes that they never wore at home. They were surrounded by flowers, brushing the tips of their noses, beaming at each other. You liked how happy they looked.
It was a simple life, and you never had any complaints. Your humans were warm when you slept by their side and had them stroke your fur. You loved their scent and the comfort it brought you. You loved the days where the three of you lazed on the couch, music in the background, laughter in the air. You couldn’t imagine spending your lifetime doing anything else.
You grew old, and so did your humans. Their routines changed, ever so subtly, but their home was your home and that was all that mattered to you.
“I love you so much, dear Mehrak,” Kaveh told you one night. Alhaitham was asleep on the couch, and you two sat on the carpet. Kaveh scratched behind your ear in the way that made you purr in delight. He smiled down at you, just like he did when you were only a kitten. “You’re our little joy. How lucky we are to have you.”
You preened yourself in Kaveh’s lap. Eventually, he dozed off. You tucked yourself in the space of his crossed legs, curling your tail to your body. Your humans were strange, but this was where you belonged. Where you wanted to belong. They smiled at you so often, and you wished they could see you smile back.
If this was love, then you loved them too.
One morning, your humans found you lying still in your bed.
Your name was Mehrak. You were only a cat. This was your first life and you had many more to come.
You were only a cat, but you had a wish for your humans. You wished for their happiness in every thread of life that spun on their spindle.
You were held in Kaveh’s arms. Next to him, Alhaitham stroked your little face.
Kaveh wiped at his eyes. “We’ll see you later, Mehrak,” he whispered.
Alhaitham pressed his lips to your forehead. “Mehrak,” he said. “Thank you. I’ll miss you.”
You slept soundly. You were eager to see them again.