The Cat Who Came Back for Her Ex

Two years after I died, I reincarnated as a stray cat. My cat mom carried me by the scruff of my neck to a familiar house. I looked up at the building I knew by heart, then at my ex-boyfriend—and his eight-pack abs—and swallowed a mouthful of kitty drool. My ex squatted down, scratching my mom’s chin, and muttered to himself, "I really want to adopt it, but she is afraid of cats." Wow. He moved on that fast? I widened my kitten eyes and glared at him. "Babe, what's wrong?" A familiar male voice drifted out from behind my ex. Wait a minute. Hold on. His current partner is a guy? 1 It was the second year after my death when I came back as a stray. I was the only kitten in the litter to survive. When I could finally wobble around on my paws, my cat mom stared at me with her big, round eyes for a long time. Then she started grooming me obsessively, meowing while she licked. I understood her. She was saying, You need to be clean. That way, a nice human will adopt you, and you’ll have a good life. I asked her if she would come with me. She didn't answer. She just grabbed my scruff and dragged me out the door. Even though I was getting used to walking on four legs, I was still terrified of heights. I’d watched cat livestreams before, but experiencing "parkour mode" in first-person view was dizzying. Mom agility-jumped us into a gated community and didn't drop me until we reached a specific door. My head was spinning. I spun in a few circles and flopped over. Mom scratched at the door until it opened. I looked up. It was the same layout I remembered. And there stood Liam, my ex, dripping wet, wearing nothing but a towel. "???" I exploded into a fuzzball on the spot. Liam must have just stepped out of the shower. Water droplets were racing down those abs. He crouched down, petting my mom with one hand and opening a can of wet food with the other. "Sorry, got caught up with something today. Didn't put food out. Starving, huh?" The towel gaped a little as he squatted. Cover your shame, man! I tried to shout, but it came out as a soft, sticky "Meow." That’s when Liam noticed me. "Is this your baby? It's so cute. I think we still have some goat milk powder. I’ll go make some." He headed to the kitchen. I stood at the door, peering inside. The furniture, the clutter—it was exactly how I left it. I wondered how he was doing. Did he still... think of me? While I was lost in thought, Liam came back with the milk. His warm palm covered my head, rubbing gently. I purred involuntarily. The last time we touched like this, I was in a hospital bed. Liam had covered my eyes and whispered, "Don't be scared. Our Riley is the bravest girl in the world." Deep-seated emotions bubbled up. I let out a stifled meow, my eyes getting wet. I had planned to find him once I could walk properly, but I didn't expect my cat mom to bring me straight here. To let him adopt me. Driven by that thought, I stumbled toward him. My cat mom nudged me from behind, encouraging me. Liam paused, seeming to understand her intention. He scratched her chin and whispered, "I really want to adopt it, but she is afraid of cats." I had just rubbed my face against his ankle. Never mind. Cat head retraction initiated. 2 My cat mom didn't know what Liam said, but she could read the room. She meowed anxiously, nudging me to rub against him again, trying to show off how clean my fur was. I wanted to speak, but how could I explain? As far as I knew, no one in Liam’s circle was afraid of cats. I loved them. When I was alive, stray cats used to escort me home, and Liam would always smile and give them treats. So who was afraid of cats? His new partner, presumably. It’s been a year. He has his own life. He had to start over. No one stays in the past forever. I looked up at him. He looked tanner than before, with dark circles under his eyes. Only those eyes were as bright as I remembered. Too bad the reflection in them wasn't me anymore. I wanted to leave, but Mom wouldn't let me. She grabbed me and dropped me at Liam’s feet again, standing guard outside. Liam sighed. While we were in this standoff, a familiar male voice came from behind him. "Babe, what's wrong?" Wait. Why is it a guy? Then, my arch-nemesis Wes’s big, stupid face leaned into view. "You're feeding strays? Remember, don't bring them inside. They're full of bacteria. Filthy." Liam didn't say anything, but his expression was resigned, like he was used to this. He might be used to it, but I wasn't. I launched myself at Wes with a combo of fury swipes. Filthy?! Who are you calling filthy?! Wes, you piece of garbage! You fought me when I was alive, and now that I'm dead, you stole my boyfriend?! My paw pads smacked against him with a satisfying thud-thud. Afraid Wes would hurt me, Liam scooped me up. "The kitten knows you're bad-mouthing it." Damn straight. I started yelling at Liam in cat language too. If you found a nice girl, I’d accept it. But my nemesis? And a guy? Are you trying to kill me twice? I swung a paw at Liam, but my legs were too short. I missed. Liam laughed and poked my head. I hissed. Wes frowned, looking at the spot where I’d hit him, lost in thought. "If you touch the cat, wash your hands. Or don't even think about getting in bed tonight." Wes dropped that bombshell and went to the bathroom. Soon, I heard the shower running. "I know," Liam replied, good-natured as always. Great. Just great. One year after my death, my boyfriend and my enemy are together. Judging by that tone, they’re sleeping together??? When did this start? After I died? Or were they colluding while I was still here? No matter what, I had to make Liam adopt me. I needed to see what the hell was going on. 3 That night, I patrolled my new territory. Wes, wearing rubber gloves, pointed a finger at me and yelled, "Liam! It's me or the cat! One of us goes!" Hearing Liam’s footsteps, I immediately flopped over and let out a weak, pathetic meow. Liam panicked, scooped me up, and put me in the cat bed. "Keep your voice down. The kitten is new; it'll get stressed." "Then send it back! I'll buy extra cat food for the strays tomorrow, okay?" Absolutely not. "Meow~" I shivered. I was weak. I was helpless. I wobbled to my feet and put my paws together in a begging motion. Liam immediately blocked me from Wes’s view. "Wes, calm down. We need to talk." "There's nothing to talk about." Wes turned and slammed the door to the guest bedroom, locking it. I gritted my teeth. I hand-picked every piece of furniture in this apartment. How dare he slam my door? Liam looked upset. He turned to comfort me, then went to the guest room. He knocked and spoke quietly for a long time before Wes opened the door. They both went inside. I hesitated, then tiptoed to the door to eavesdrop. Thanks to my superior cat hearing, I caught bits and pieces. "...Are you crazy? That's a cat!" "I know, but she might..." "You're seriously sick. Send it away tomorrow!" "..." It was like they had a censor filter on. I couldn't hear the keywords. I spun around anxiously, trying different poses to hear better. Suddenly, the door opened. I tumbled into the room, limbs splayed. "Meow?" Wes sneered down at me. "Look at that. Eavesdropping? I thought it was 'stressed'?" "What does a kitten know?" Liam picked me up and carried me out. "It understood when I insulted it earlier, but now it knows nothing?" "Wes! Listen to yourself. It's a cat! It’s not even a month old!" "You better hope it's just a cat." I didn't understand what they were arguing about, but I knew Wes was up to no good. Liam carried me away, looking downcast. He was angry. I extended a paw toward Wes, who looked equally annoyed. I stretched my toes, retracted the others, and left one specific claw out. The middle one. Being flipped off by a kitten must be a first for him. But Wes didn't get mad. He just stared at my claw, stunned. What’s his deal? Is he a masochist? When I’m cute, he hates me. When I abuse him, he shuts up. I was put back in the cat bed. Since I arrived at night, they didn't have supplies. Liam rummaged around and finally pulled out a big red scarf to cover me. Hey! Liam! It took me half a month to knit that scarf! You're giving it to a cat? Even though the cat is me, I still felt salty about it. "Have a good sleep. Goodnight." Liam kissed my head, his tone sickeningly sweet. If I weren't a cat right now, I’d think I’d traveled back to the old days. 4 My name is Riley (Yan Nannan). I grew up in foster care. Wes was in the same group home, a year younger than me. We fought from day one. The worst time, I broke my arm, and he got his head split open. The director told us if we fought again, we’d be kicked out. So we dialed it back. After high school, I got into a university up North, a thousand miles away. Before I left, we fought again because Wes hid my suitcase. He blocked the door, glaring at me. "Riley! Didn't you apply to schools in the South?" "Yeah, but my grades slipped, so I got into the Northern one. Are you sick? Give me my suitcase or I’ll pound you!" He didn't speak. He just stared at me. So I punched him. I grabbed my suitcase and left, nursing a sore hand. Later, I found out Wes got accepted to a school in the South, a thousand miles away from the home. Whatever. It had nothing to do with me. Further the better. Looking at him made me angry. I never went back to the group home. I worked part-time through college to survive. After graduation, I worked days and hustled nights. Because I had to feed myself and my cat. I found the cat by the road, soaking wet like it had been fished out of a river. I wrapped it in my scarf. Just as I was about to leave, I heard splashing from the nearby pond. More cats? I rushed over. I saw a guy clinging to the bank, half his body still in the water, too exhausted to pull himself up. I put the cat on the grass and went to pull him out. He looked up. His dull eyes suddenly lit up when he saw me. "I've got you. Don't let go." He nodded and scrambled up. Luckily, I’m strong. I yanked him onto the grass in one go. He collapsed on the slope, gasping for air. "Do you need an ambulance?" "Is the cat okay?" We spoke at the same time, then smiled. "No, I just need to rest." "Okay." I picked the cat up and sat next to him to show him. The cat was shaking, but conscious, looking at us timidly. The guy drove us to the vet. Luckily, the cat was fine, just scared and had an ear infection. I happily shoved the medical report into his hand. "Good news! Father and son are safe!" He paused, then laughed. "Yeah. Father and son are safe." My eyes lingered on the wet business card in his hand—"Song Huixun" (Liam).

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