A few months ago, I thought my life was finally coming together. I had found love in a woman I adored, Emily, and after eight beautiful months together, we decided to take the next big step—moving in together. It felt like the beginning of something wonderful, a new chapter filled with love and shared dreams. But I never imagined that this decision would force me to make one of the hardest choices of my life.
Our new home in New York wasn’t just for the two of us. It was meant to be shared with my most loyal companion, the one who had been with me through every high and low: my cat, Oliver. For ten years, Oliver had been more than just a pet—he was family, my silent confidant, my source of comfort in the loneliest nights. I had adopted him when I left my parents’ home, and he had been by my side ever since. I couldn’t imagine a life without him.
At first, Emily seemed perfectly fine with Oliver. She would pet him, play with him, even laugh at his little quirks. I thought everything was going smoothly. I truly believed we had found harmony. But I was wrong.
Just two weeks after moving in, Emily started getting sick. It began with small things—red eyes, sneezing fits, an occasional cough. We brushed it off as seasonal allergies, maybe dust in the apartment. But as the days passed, her condition worsened. She was exhausted all the time, her face pale, her voice weak. At night, she could barely breathe, waking up gasping for air.
Panic set in, and we went straight to the doctor. I never once suspected that Oliver could be the cause. But when the doctor looked at Emily’s test results and then turned to us with a serious expression, my heart sank.
—She has a severe allergy to cat fur. Her immune system is reacting aggressively, and if she continues this exposure, her condition will only deteriorate.
I couldn’t believe it.
—But she’s been around Oliver before! Why is this happening now?
The doctor sighed, as if he had explained this a thousand times before.
—Allergic reactions can develop over time. Being around a cat for a few hours or even a day is not the same as living with one. In her case, the constant exposure is making her symptoms worse. The only way to stop it is to remove the source.
The car ride home was suffocating. My mind raced with thoughts. I loved Emily—I didn’t want her to suffer. But Oliver… Oliver had been with me through everything. How could I even consider getting rid of him? I started thinking of alternatives. Maybe he could stay with a friend for a while. Maybe there was some medical treatment Emily could try. There had to be another way.
But when we got home, I realized Emily had already made up her mind.
—So? When are you getting rid of him? —Her voice was cold, detached.
I froze.
—What?
—The doctor said it clearly. I need to stop being around the cat. You need to take him somewhere else.
The way she said it—like Oliver was some useless object, a piece of old furniture I could just throw away—sent a chill down my spine.
—Emily, please. He’s not just a cat. He’s my family. I can’t just abandon him.
—So I don’t matter to you? —Her tone sharpened, anger flaring in her eyes—. You’d rather keep a cat than be with me?
And at that moment, I knew. This wasn’t just about allergies. This was about something deeper, something that had been there all along, but I had refused to see.
If she truly loved me, wouldn’t she at least try to find a solution with me? Wouldn’t she show a little understanding? But no. In her mind, there was only one choice—her way or nothing.
Something inside me cracked.
I looked at her, feeling the weight of a love that was already fading, crumbling like dry leaves in the wind.
—If you think Oliver is just a problem to be “gotten rid of”… then you’re the one who should leave.
Her face twisted in shock. She opened her mouth, as if about to argue, but I saw something else in her eyes—pride, wounded and raw.
Without another word, she turned and started packing. Each item she threw into her suitcase felt like a final nail in the coffin of what we once had. And I just stood there, unmoving.
When she finally left, the apartment was eerily silent.
I sat down on the floor, feeling the weight of what had just happened.
Oliver, sensing my distress, walked over and curled up beside me, pressing his warm body against my leg. His soft purr filled the empty space, comforting me in a way no words ever could.
Because love isn’t about ultimatums. It isn’t about forcing someone to choose between happiness and loyalty. Love, real love, understands. It compromises. It doesn’t demand sacrifice without offering one in return.
And so, no—I don’t regret choosing Oliver. Because unlike Emily, he never once asked me to prove my love by abandoning someone else.
