**Diary Entry**
The bitterness swelled in Emilys chest like a rising tide. Slowly, Daniel shut the flat door behind him, sighed deeply, and slumped onto the sofa. Anger and confusion churned inside himjust moments ago, hed had a blazing row with the woman he loved, all over a stray kitten.
The last half-hour had been a whirlwind of sharp words, accusations, and futile attempts to defend himself. It left him feeling unmoored, as if the ground had vanished beneath his feet, leaving nothing but a heavy weight in his chest.
Emily had always drawn him in with her gentle nature, kindness, and openness. Their connection had felt effortless, as though they balanced each other perfectly. Lately, though, shed become distant, consumed by caring for some scruffy little thing shed found on the street.
At first, Daniel had humoured herfine, she had a soft spot for helpless creatures. But over time, her obsession took on an unsettling intensity. Every conversation circled back to the kittens treatment, its health, its needs. It was as though all the affection and attention she once gave him had been redirected to this wretched, half-blind cat.
When the argument finally erupted, he said it plainly: the kitten had taken his place in her life. To him, pouring money and emotion into a hopeless case was madness. Why not adopt a healthy, pedigreed catone that could bring them both joy? Why waste resources on an animal with no real future?
Emily reacted as if hed struck her. She called him callous, heartless, blind to what truly mattered. The harder he argued, the clearer the divide between them became.
It had started on an ordinary morning. Emily heard a faint mewl near her doorstep. At first, she thought it was the winduntil she peered out and spotted the tiny, shivering bundle of fur. Without hesitation, she scooped it up and rushed inside.
The kitten was a pitiful sightfilthy, scrawny, with crusted eyes and inflamed nostrils. Its tail trembled weakly, as though even balance was a struggle. She took it straight to the vet, where the diagnosis was grim: a severe eye infection, likely to leave it blind.
*”Itll take time and money,”* the vet warned. *”No guarantees, either.”*
But Emily refused to give up. She spent hundreds on medicine, eyedrops, and vet visits. Each day, she patiently treated the wounds, fed the kitten by hand, and coaxed it back to strength.
A month later, the infection clearedbut the damage was done. The kitten, now named Pip, would never see again. Friends suggested rehoming him, even putting him down. *”Why prolong its suffering?”* they asked.
Emily wouldnt hear of it. Shed saved him once; she wouldnt abandon him now.
Pip adapted brilliantly. At first, he stumbled, bumped into walls, fumbled his way around. But within days, he mapped the flat like a profinding his food bowl, mastering the litter tray without a single mishap.
Soon, he became her shadow, curling in her lap whenever she sat down. If she was upset, hed press against her, purring softly, as if to say, *”Im here.”*
Then came the fight with Daniel. He called her foolish for wasting time and money on a “useless” cat. A proper, healthy one wouldve been smarter, he said.
Emilys heart ached. How could he not see? Pip, despite his blindness, gave more love than any pedigreed pet ever could.
The realisation struck her hard. The true blind one wasnt Pipit was Daniel, who couldnt recognise loyalty and devotion when it stared him in the face.
They broke up quietly, without regrets. Emily knew she didnt need a man who valued pedigree over kindness. She had Pip nowher tiny, faithful companion, always there to remind her what love really looked like.
