Charlotte, are you home? Ian burst through the front door, his breath catching the moment he saw his wife huddled in the hallway, shoulders hunched, sobbing uncontrollably. I cant make sense of whats happened. You were wailing so hard I couldnt hear a word. And then, as if the universe were mocking us, the phone died. Whats wrong, Charlotte? You look like a ghost.
Muffin is gone, Charlotte whispered, her voice cracking. Hes not back.
Gone? How could he just vanish? Ians eyes widened. Did he slip out somewhere? Could he be hiding in the flat?
No. Your sister Victoria told me Muffin bolted into the hallway when she stepped out for a walk with Michael. But you know our Muffin, Ianhe would never run off on his own. Why would he go out into the streets, where he almost froze to death? I think she let him out on purpose
What?! Ians fists clenched. Where is she now? Wheres Victoria?
She supposedly went to the shop I dont know. Ive searched every room, but theres no sign of him. No neighbour has seen him either. How can a person be so cruel, tossing a defenseless creature into the cold winter night? Is that even human?
People can be, but Victoria she has a habit of doing exactly this. Dont worry, she wont be setting foot in our flat again. Honestly, why did we ever let her stay?
A month earlier
Ian was walking toward the bus stop when a grey shape caught his eye beneath a thin veil of snow. At first he thought it was just a stone, but the stone trembled like an old, rattling refrigerator. That odd vibration was what made him stop. He had never seen, let alone heard, a rock shiver from the cold.
Curiosity pulled him off the pavement. As he drew nearer, the rock revealed itself to be a tiny, grey kitten, shivering on the frosted ground.
What the? Ian muttered, scratching his head. What are you doing here, little thing?
It was a rhetorical question. Any sane person knows that streetborn animals are fighting for every breath. This kitten made no frantic mews, no desperate criesjust a still, trembling bundle that seemed resigned to its fate.
Ian scooped the shivering creature up, brushed the snow from its fur, and slipped it under his coat. With one hand gripping the kitten, the other clutching the bus pole, he sprinted toward the stop, his mind racing. He remembered Charlottes wish for a grey, striped kittenshed never found the time to visit a shelter. Fate, it seemed, had dropped one right at his feet. When destiny offers, you take it.
Charlotte, Ive got a surprise for you, Ian announced, bursting into the flat.
Stop spoiling me, love, Charlotte smiled, stepping into the hallway. One day its golden earrings, the next its a new phone Ive been dreaming about, then cinema tickets. Whats this time? A trip to the Alps?
Even better! Ians eyes lit up as he unzipped his jacket and lifted the kitten. Found him out on the pavement. You wanted exactly thisgrey and striped, right?
Good heavens, Charlotte gasped, cradling the tiny body. Hes frozen solid! Bring him in, Ill warm him up. And you, strip off and wash your hands, then help in the kitchendinners ready.
She stared at the kitten, a soft smile spreading. What a beautiful little thing
And so Muffin entered Ian and Charlottes lives. They tossed around a dozen names before settling on the classic Muffin. It suits him better than Tom or Lucas, Ian said, chuckling. Agreed, love.
It was late November, the first snow of the season, so the kitten hadnt yet learned the harsh lessons of a British winter. Thank the heavensmany animals never survive their first freeze.
In the two weeks that followed, Muffin became the heart of the flat. They fell for him from day one, and each new day deepened their affection. The cat, in turn, adored his new ownersgentle, caring people who would never cast him out as his previous owners had. He grew calm, only occasionally toppling a cup or a remote, which earned him a forgiving Be more careful next time, rather than a scolding. Ill be, he seemed to purr, leaping onto the nightstand and swatting the remote with practiced grace.
Everything remained blissful until a knock sounded at the door.
Who could be turning up on a Sunday morning? Ian rubbed his eyes, glancing at the clockhalf past six. Outside, darkness still clung to the street.
Maybe the neighbours? Something happen to them? Charlotte guessed, uneasy.
Ill go check. Ian opened the front door to find Victoria standing on the step, not alone but with her fiveyearold son, Milo, peering up at him.
Hey, brother, she beamed. Were here for a visit. You dont mind, do you?
I well
Dont worry, I warned you. I didnt have time to callyoud have missed it anyway. Let us in, and could you help with the suitcase? Im dragging it up to the fourth floor and my legs are about to give out.
Ian let them in, though the sight of a suitcase made him uneasy; guests rarely arrived with luggage in hand.
Whats happened to you? he asked.
My husband threw me out, Victoria replied, shrugging. Hes found a new wife. Ive got nowhere to go, so Im crashing here until I figure something out. We could even ring in New Year togetherwouldnt that be grand? We havent spoken much for four years, have we?
You know why we fell out, Ian said flatly. Its hard to build anything on lies.
Ah, come off it, Victoria retorted. Who remembers old grudges? We all err, love. No ones perfect.
Ian wanted to fire back but held his tongue. He didnt want to start the morning with a fight, and Charlotte would never approve of him attacking the sister his husband had driven out.
The backstory was messy. Their father had died five years earlier, leaving a threebedroom flat in the city that should have been split between Ian and Victoria. Victoria, heavily pregnant at the time, had leaned on their mothers support to ask Ian to relinquish his share, claiming she needed the place more. Ian, then living in student halls, obliged, hoping to sort his own housing later. He thought hed earn his own home someday, perhaps with a mortgage, as was the norm.
When Victorias son was born, she sold the flat and moved in with a new boyfriend, Val, who ran a burgeoning business. I need cash for the venture, she told Ian. This flat was mine to sell. Ian erupted, expecting at least half the proceeds, but Val swore the money went straight into the business, leaving Ian with nothing.
Their mother stayed out of it, believing adults could sort their affairsjust as she had when they were children. Back then, Ian had once found a stray kitten after school and brought it home, only for it to vanish. Hed never suspected his mother, but now he wondered whether Victoria had been involved in that disappearance. Hed demanded answers, but shed denied everything, her eyes betraying lies. Hed stopped rescuing stray cats after that, and the tension with his sister had become a permanent undercurrent.
Now Victoria was at the door, asking for shelter.
Should we let her stay? Charlotte sighed, rubbing her temples. Shes got a child, it would be cruel to send them out onto the street. And the New Year is right around the cornermaybe we can finally patch things up.
Fine, Ian waved a hand. If you dont mind, let her stay a while.
Instinct told him nothing good would come of it.
The next day Victoria began complaining about Muffin. He keeps me up, running around the flat, lounging on my sofa, staring at me oddly. Then Milo developed a cold.
Its definitely an allergy to your cat, Victoria announced. My son used to be as solid as a rock.
Maybe its just a cold, Ian countered. You take him out for walks, after all. Even if it is an allergy, Muffin is family.
Your family? Victoria laughed. When did you stop bringing stray animals home? How does Charlotte even put up with you?
Charlotte, ever the animal lover, defended Ian. You seem to hate them, Vic. What have they ever done to you?
Victoria rolled her eyes. Theyre a nuisance. My son cant sleep because of that cat. Its stress! When you have your own children youll understand.
Ian fell silent. Childrenan ache he and Charlotte had tried for years without success. Doctors offered no answers, and the subject was a raw nerve for both of them. Victoria, aware of the pain, pressed on.
I suggest we put Muffin in a shelter, she said flatly. Milo is my nephew, Im your sisternone of us should suffer because of a cat. Its just an animal, after all. My mother would have told you the same.
Ians temper flared. A shelter? Muffin lives here, not in a cage. If you dont like him, youre free to leave. I wont ask you to stay any longer.
He thought, angrily, Send your child to a shelter if youre so upset, but kept it to himself, fearing an explosive argument.
For a while Victoria seemed to calm, but the animosity lingered. When Ian and Charlotte werent home, she would push Muffin off the couch and shove him into the far corner, denying him any view of the room. Muffin endured in silence, then began his quiet revengeknocking her phone off the nightstand, tugging at the hem of her favourite sweater.
Your cat is ruining my things! Victoria shrieked. Why did you even get a pet if you cant control it?
She once let Milo pull Muffins tail, then stole his favourite soft toy, stashing it in her suitcase.
Im warning you, Ian snarled. Youre living in my flat. If you want to stay, keep your hands off my cat.
Alright, alright, Victoria muttered, backing off.
The night before New Years Eve, Charlotte called Ian, her voice trembling with tears. He could not grasp the full story, only that something serious had occurred. He left work early, drove home, and burst through the door.
Charlotte, are you home? he shouted, freezing at the sight of her curled on the hallway floor, still weeping. I couldnt make sense of anything. Your cries were deafening, and then my phone died. Whats happened, love? You look like a spectre.
Muffin is missing, she whispered, barely audible. Hes not back.
How could he just disappear? Ian demanded. Did he hide somewhere in the flat?
No. Your sister Victoria said he ran into the hallway when she stepped out for a walk. But you know our Muffinhe would never run off on his own. Why would he go out into the street, where he almost perished? I think she let him out on purpose
What?! Ians fists tightened. Where is she now?
Apparently she went to the shop I dont know. Ive looked everywhere, and no ones seen him. How can someone be so vile, tossing a defenseless creature into the cold? Is that even human?
People can be, but Victoria she can. Shes done this before. Dont worry, her feet wont be in our flat today. Ill find Muffin, I promise.
He searched the streets that night, the darkness swallowing any hope. He never found Muffin.
The following morning, when Victoria arrived with Milo, Ian interrogated her with a fury that bordered on obsession.
Why did you do it? he roared. Why did you fling the cat onto the street? You know he almost died!
I didnt do anything, brother, she shrugged nonchalantly. I opened the door and he bolted. I didnt chase him. My child comes first, not some stray cat.
Ian stared into her eyes, seeing the lie shine through. She had deliberately let Muffin out, perhaps even taken him further away.
Tomorrow is New Years, Victoria said, trying to smooth things over. I bought some champagne. Lets not fight over this, shall we?
Dont bother, Ian snapped. Pack your things.
What? Are you hard of hearing? Victoria snapped. Pack them or Ill throw them out the window.
Ian drove her and Milo to the station, handed them a few pounds for tickets, and said, Go wherever you wantyour husbands house, your mothers, even a night at the station. Ive had enough of you. And Im sorry for your sons mother.
Later that evening, their mother called, accusing Ian of being coldhearted.
Victoria came to you as family, and you chased her away with a child in tow. How could you do that, son?
Ian replied, Shell probably make something up. Im done with her.
On 31December, seated at a modest festooned table, Ian and Charlotte felt nothing festive. The clocks chimes were still minutes away, and the champagne sat unopened. Their beloved cat was still missing.
Ian, do you hear that? Charlotte asked suddenly, eyes wide. Someones rattling at the door.
Probably Victoria again Ian muttered, rising.
When he opened the door, there stood Muffin, shivering but alive, his fur frosted and his eyes wide with relief. He had somehow survived the night and found his way back.
Muffins back! Ian cried, scooping the cat into his arms. Hes home!
They wrapped him in a blanket, fed him, and Charlotte clutched him close, not letting go for a moment.
He purred contentedly, as if to say, I survived. Im home where Im loved.
Just a minute before midnight, Charlotte whispered, shall we pop the champagne?
Of course. Ian popped the bottle, pouring the fizz into glasses. Outside, fireworks burst, and jubilant cheers rose from the street.
They say the way you meet the New Year is the way it will be. From that night on, Muffin remained with his humansand, unknowingly, felt the stir of new life in Charlottes womb as she held him tight. The flat, once divided by old grudges, now hummed with the promise of fresh beginnings.
