In a quaint little town along the River Thames, where the breeze carries the scent of fresh water, Emily and James had been together for six long years. But James was in no hurry to propose. He lived comfortably with his parents, while Emily rented a small flat in town. He liked the arrangement—meeting when it suited him, cosy evenings in her company, then returning home where everything was familiar and easy.
Emily, meanwhile, dreamed of marriage and a place of their own. She knew buying a home would fall on her shoulders, so she saved diligently for a mortgage deposit. Yet her heart ached—why wouldn’t James talk about their future, despite all her hints? She believed he loved her, but the uncertainty gnawed at her soul. Finally, she decided it was time to lay her cards on the table.
“I’m not ready for marriage. I need time to think,” James muttered, avoiding her gaze as he hurriedly gathered his things.
Emily’s stomach dropped. Cheeks burning with humiliation, her heart shattered. How could she have been so blind? The truth was clear—he’d never intended to build a life with her. Yet hope, that cruel companion, had made her believe in miracles until the bitter end.
A week passed in heavy silence. James vanished—no calls, no replies. After weathering storms of anger and despair, Emily decided enough tears had been shed. She focused on her dream: buying her own flat. By then, she’d saved enough for the deposit, and that goal became her lifeline, pulling her away from thoughts of betrayal.
Three months later, Emily owned a cosy flat on the town’s outskirts. House hunting, paperwork, and mortgage headaches pushed James from her heart. At last, she felt free.
On her first evening in the new flat, Emily popped into the local shop for groceries. Down a narrow lane, a tiny kitten latched onto her—its wide, hungry eyes staring straight into her soul. She froze. She’d never planned on a pet, but this trembling little creature mirrored her own loneliness.
“Take ‘im, love, or the strays’ll get ‘im,” an elderly woman passing by called. “Plenty of rough dogs ‘round here.”
The words struck deep. Without hesitation, Emily scooped up the kitten. She was now the mistress of her own fate. And so, Whiskers entered her life—a tiny bundle of warmth, gazing at her with boundless trust.
Six months passed. Life settled—until, out of the blue, James reappeared. Flowers in hand, he claimed he was ready to start anew. Though wary, Emily gave him a chance. He spoke more of their future, and a spark of hope flickered in her heart.
Then came the day she’d longed for. James knelt and proposed. Tears of joy blurred her vision—until his next words shattered everything.
“Just get rid of Whiskers. I’ve had allergies since I was a kid. Can’t stand cats, anyway.”
Emily froze. The world crumbled. After all the pain, just as happiness seemed within reach, he gave her an ultimatum.
“You could give ‘er away or—well, put ‘er down,” he added, mistaking her silence for hesitation.
“Are you mad?” Her voice trembled with rage. “She’s alive! She’s family!”
“Family?” James scoffed, softening his tone. “It’s just a cat, Em. Choose—her or me.”
Tears streamed down Emily’s face. James wiped them away, but her eyes stayed locked on Whiskers, sitting in the corner. The kitten’s trusting gaze seemed to say, *You’ll do what’s right.* Emily shoved him back.
“I choose Whiskers,” she said firmly, voice shaking. “She doesn’t betray me or make demands. She loves me as I am. I was a fool to trust you again. Get out.”
The door slammed behind James. Emily sank to the floor, and Whiskers leaped into her lap, purring loudly. At that moment, she knew—she’d made the only choice that mattered. The tears dried, her heart steady. A happy new life lay ahead. And Whiskers would be there, a reminder: real love doesn’t ask for sacrifices.
