Today was her birthday. From dawn, calls flooded in, disrupting her morning routine—yet each interruption warmed her heart, proof she hadn’t been forgotten…
Her daughter phoned, wishing her well before reminding her to swing by after work: cook dinner, help with homework, babysit the grandson…
Next, she’d dash to her in-laws’ flat, dropping off groceries bought en route, then hurry home to prepare her husband’s meal.
Only afterward might she unwind, sharing a glass of wine with him in front of the telly—if exhaustion hadn’t claimed her. If not, no matter. She was used to it.
After all, her purpose was to tend to everyone. Keep them content. What more could she ask for? Their happiness was her gift. And theirs was hers…
Two cats—one elderly, one young—watched their owner bustle about. The younger mused, “We’re lucky. Who else would dote on us like this?”
The elder frowned. “But who dotes on *her*? She’s only forty-five, yet in those frayed clothes, she looks sixty. Not a soul spares her today.”
“Odd thoughts,” the younger replied, baffled.
“She rescued me as a kitten from a skip,” the old cat murmured. “Fed me with a dropper. I’ve watched her fade from lively to weary.”
“So? We’re fed. Pampered. Free to nap anywhere. What else matters?”
“Repayment,” the elder insisted. “A debt.” But the kitten didn’t understand…
*****
By morning, the old cat had vanished—as if dissolved into the walls.
She left for work heavy-hearted, yet after clocking out, routine resumed: babysit the grandson, deliver groceries, cook for her husband…
Searching for the cat would wait.
Rushing home through autumn puddles, an old man hailed her near a bench—dark glasses, cane in hand. “Lass, might you assist me?”
“Of course,” she said, guiding him to sit. His grip tightened, pulling her down.
“I’m in a hurry—”
“Whereto?” he pressed. Something about him felt eerily familiar—his posture, his tone…
“Your trainers are worn,” he remarked.
“How’d you know?”
“Blind, not deaf. They slosh in puddles.”
She flushed. “My jacket’s new, though.”
“A hand-me-down from your daughter?” He smirked, fingering the fabric.
“You see too much,” she grumbled.
“Don’t fret, love,” he chuckled, whiskers twitching—almost feline. She shook off the absurd thought.
“When was your birthday?”
“Yesterday…” Her throat tightened. Then the lies spilled: “My daughter gifted a designer dress. My husband brought roses, Chanel perfume. His parents hosted a feast—truffles, vintage champagne! We danced all night…”
The old man listened silently.
“Don’t believe me?”
He turned, smiling. “I’ve known you long. Let me gift you something. Come.”
“I can’t! Chores await—”
“They’ll keep.” Firmly, he led her away, strides brisk as a young man’s…
*****
They returned late. She wore a tailored dress, heels, hair styled at Harvey Nichols. A chauffeur had delivered her grocery bags.
“Thank you,” she said, kissing his cheek. “You must’ve known my parents. This was… the best birthday.”
He brushed her face—a gesture mirroring her old cat’s nuzzle.
Inside, her family gaped from the doorway.
“Where’ve you been?” her husband demanded. “We phoned every hospital!”
“Celebrating with an old friend. He’s just—” She turned, but the man was gone.
“You look stunning,” her son-in-law breathed.
“Gallivanting with strangers?” her mother-in-law sneered. “Who funds this?”
“Exactly,” the woman smiled. “I spend all on you. Forbid myself a treat, yes?”
The in-laws stormed out.
“Splendid,” she told her husband. “I’ve had enough of them.” To her daughter: “I’ll visit… next month.”
Once alone, she ordered, “Unpack the shopping. Make me tea. I’ll shower—exhausted from dancing.”
Stunned, he obeyed, even adding sandwiches and chocolates…
*****
She found the old cat next morning in the wardrobe—lifeless, yet smiling. Burying him beneath an oak, she glimpsed the stranger by the bins.
Rushing over, she found only a tiny kitten.
“Come home,” she whispered, cradling it.
The kitten purred. “I know you’ll care.”
“I will,” she vowed.
“I know,” it trilled, as if answering.
