EAT
I walked along the corner of the street, the evening air clinging to my already exhausted body as I tucked my hands deep inside my pockets, my shoulders slightly slumped, every step heavier than the last.
My bike had broken down at the worst possible time and for the first time in a long while, I had to depend on the local bus to get to the hospital.
And I hated every second of it.
The morning rush, the suffocating crowd, the constant noise, the lack of space to even breathe—it drained whatever patience I had before my shift even started.
And the shift itself?
Even worse.
Long and tiring.
By the time it ended, my head was already pounding, my body aching in ways I didn’t have the energy to care about.
And then came the journey back.
The same crowded bus.
The same chaos.
People pushing, voices overlapping, the heat pressing against my skin like it refused to let go.
By the time I finally got down at my stop, it felt like I had lived an entire lifetime in a single day.
Now, as I walked back home from the bus stop, the streets quieter, the sky dimming slowly, I let out a long breath, my steps slower, dragging slightly as fatigue settled deep into my bones.
All I wanted was silence.
Peace.
Maybe a few hours without hearing her nonstop talking.
I scoffed faintly at my own thought, shaking my head.
Suddenly, something from the other side of the road caught my eye.
I slowed down slightly, narrowing my eyes.
That same black menace.
Little Sinclair.
A faint chuckle escaped my lips at the name as I shook my head.
“So this madam had a full schedule, huh…” I muttered to myself. “Working the streets in the evening and coming to my house at night just to disturb my sleep.”
I looked both ways and crossed the road carefully, my steps unconsciously slowing as I approached her.
She was curled up at the side, small and still, her dark fur blending into the dim light.
Her tiny head lifted instantly, and she let out a soft meow, as if she had been waiting for me.
I stopped a step away, staring down at her.
And just like that...her voice echoed in my mind.
"Can we keep her?"
My jaw tightened slightly as I exhaled, my hands still tucked inside my pockets.
The kitten meowed again, softer this time, taking a tiny step toward me.
I looked around the empty street for a second.
Then back at her.
“She forced me into a marriage…” I continued quietly, almost like I was reasoning with myself now. “And now she’s forcing me into adopting a cat… indirectly.”
Another small meow.
I closed my eyes briefly, already feeling the defeat settling in.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, even though she was doing exactly that...just sitting there, staring up at me like I owed her something.
I sighed.
“…You’re coming only till the house,” I muttered finally, crouching down a little. “Temporary. Don’t get any ideas.”
The kitten blinked at me.
Unbothered.
Like she already knew..she had won.
I knelt down beside her, letting out a quiet breath as I unzipped my bag and took out a pair of gloves and a mask.
If I was going to do this—
I was at least going to survive it.
I slipped the gloves on carefully, adjusting the mask over my face before hesitantly picking the kitten up, holding her like she might explode any second.
She didn’t.
She just settled in my hands, small and warm, letting out a soft sound as if she had just found her place.
I stood up slowly, still a little cautious, still a little unsure, but already walking ahead before I could change my mind.
For a moment, I looked at her.
Then lifted her slightly into the air.
“Let’s go,” I said, a small chuckle escaping me despite myself. “Time to surprise big Sinclair.”
And as I continued walking down the quiet street, the exhaustion from the entire day still clinging to me...there was something else now.
Something lighter.
Something unfamiliar.
I walked a little faster, my steps quickening without me even realizing it, as if some strange urgency had taken over my already exhausted body.
By the time I reached home, I slipped off my shoes hurriedly and adjusted my hold on the kitten, making sure she wouldn’t jump off.
I lifted my hand and knocked on the door.
Once.
Twice.
And then I waited.
A whole minute passed.
Then another.
I frowned slightly, shifting my weight from one leg to the other, the kitten moving a little in my hands as if growing impatient too.
“Yeah yeah, your big Sinclair takes time,” I muttered under my breath.
Finally the door clicked open.
And there she was.
Her hair slightly messy, eyes heavy with sleep, clearly just dragged out of bed.
But the moment her gaze dropped to what I was holding.
Her eyes widened.
Completely.
All traces of sleep vanished in an instant.
“…No way,” she whispered, blinking as if she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming.
I raised the kitten slightly, expression straight, like this was no big deal.
“Your employee brought a guest,” I said dryly.
Her entire face lit up in a way I had never seen before.
“Sinclair!” she gasped, her voice suddenly full of life as she rushed forward.
I passed the kitten to her carefully, making sure she had a proper hold before letting go, and then walked past her into the house without another word.
“Why are you wearing these gloves and all this stuff?” she asked, her voice filled with confusion as she cradled the kitten like it was something precious.
“Sinclairs are dangerous,” I replied dryly, not even turning back.
I pulled off the gloves, then the mask, tossing them aside as I headed straight to the room, my body already craving the relief of a shower after the long, exhausting day.
Grabbing my towel and a fresh set of clothes, I carelessly threw my ID card onto the table—missing it slightly so it slid to the edge—but I didn’t bother fixing it.
I don't want to carry any disease to the home from the hospital.
Without wasting another second, I walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me as I turned on the shower, letting the water run before stepping in.
After a quick shower, I stepped out, the faint scent of soap still clinging to my skin as I ran the towel through my damp hair, trying to dry it as I walked back into the room.
She was sitting on the floor, completely occupied, the kitten curled comfortably in her lap as she played with it, her laughter soft and genuine, so different from her usual loud chaos.
For a moment, I just stood there.
Watching.
Something about the scene felt… peaceful.
“Are we really keeping her?” she asked, looking up at me, her eyes bright, almost hopeful—like a child asking for something she didn’t want to be refused.
I paused for a second.
Then nodded.
Her face lit up instantly.
“You are such a good guy,” she said, grinning widely.
I scoffed softly, looking away as I continued rubbing my hair with the towel.
“Don’t get used to it,” I muttered. “It’s temporary.”
“If she gives even a small trouble… I’m throwing both the Sinclairs out,” I said, my tone firm, like I actually meant every word of it.
She just chuckled, completely unbothered.
“Don’t listen to him, okay?” she said softly, looking down at the kitten with a smile that didn’t fade even for a second. “He won’t throw us.”
I frowned slightly, lowering the towel from my hair as I looked at her.
“Us?” I repeated.
She looked up at me, her expression innocent, but her eyes held that same teasing glint.
“Yeah,” she said simply, hugging the kitten a little closer. “Me and her.”
I clicked my tongue, shaking my head as I turned away.
“Overconfidence is not a good thing,” I muttered.
“I’ll even keep her… but not you,” I said, pointing straight at the big Sinclair with a straight face.
“Aww, you won’t,” she replied casually, not even looking at me, her attention still on the kitten. “You love us.”
My breath hitched.
For a second everything in my head went completely blank.
I looked away immediately, jaw tightening as I ran the towel over my hair again, a little more roughly than needed.
“Stop talking nonsense,” I muttered.
She completely ignored me, too busy playing with the kitten, her world reduced to soft purrs and tiny paws, as if nothing else around her even mattered.
I walked into the kitchen, and the moment my eyes fell on the eggs I had brought for her—still lying there, untouched exactly the way I had left them—something in me snapped in quiet irritation.
“I told you to boil two eggs and eat them for lunch,” I said, my voice carrying just enough firmness to make the point clear.
“I was lazy to boil it,” she shrugged casually, like it wasn’t a big deal at all.
I clicked my tongue, shaking my head as I moved forward, filling a vessel with water and placing it on the stove with a little more force than necessary.
Opening the plastic cover, I took out two eggs and dropped them in, watching them sink slowly as the water began to heat.
“You are already underweight,” I muttered under my breath, not even sure if I wanted her to hear it or not.
“Don’t body shame me,” she said, marching into the kitchen like she was about to file a complaint against me.
I turned to look at her, unimpressed.
“I am not body shaming you… I am talking about your health,” I said, stressing the last word as I adjusted the flame.
She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at me like she didn’t believe a single word.
“Same thing,” she muttered.
I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head.
“If I was body shaming you, I would’ve started with a full presentation by now,” I said. “Charts, graphs… proper analysis.”
She blinked at me for a second—
Then her lips twitched.
“Wow… so much effort just to insult me?”
“Exactly,” I nodded seriously. “And today I’m being kind. So just eat the eggs.”
She rolled her eyes, but I caught that small smile she tried to hide.
“Such a rich fellow you are,” I said, glancing at her as I turned off the stove. “Does your brother at least buy you healthy food?”
I poured out the hot water carefully and replaced it with cold, the faint hiss filling the silence as the eggs cooled down.
She didn’t answer immediately.
I frowned slightly, peeling the shell off one egg, my fingers moving out of habit.
“He does,” she said finally, her voice quieter than before.
“Then what’s the problem?” I asked, brushing off the tiny shell pieces.
“I just… don’t feel like eating sometimes,” she shrugged, trying to make it sound casual.
I scoffed lightly.
“Feeling like it is not a requirement. Eating is,” I said, placing the peeled egg on a plate and starting on the second one.
She leaned against the counter, watching me.
“I have an eating disorder,” she said.
My hands stilled for a second.
I looked at her—but she said it so casually, like she was talking about the weather.
Something in my chest tightened.
I breathed out slowly and continued peeling the egg, forcing my fingers to move like nothing had changed.
“Go and wash your hands after touching that little menace,” I said instead.
She didn’t argue this time.
She just turned, walked to the sink, washed her hands with soap, and came back quietly.
So now it made sense.
Why the food I left stayed untouched.
Why she always brushed it off.
Why she never really ate…
I placed the second egg on the plate beside the first and pushed it slightly towards her.
“Sit,” I said.
She hopped onto the counter, sitting cross-legged.
I leaned beside her, arms folded.
“Eat,” I said.
She shot me a glare but still took a bite, chewing slowly like she was doing me a favor.
“Can we build a house for Sinclair?” she asked suddenly, her voice lighter, like the heaviness from a few minutes ago never existed.
I hummed in response, turning my head to look at her.
She smiled a little, eyes dropping to the kitten curled near the corner.
“Not something big,” she continued between bites. “Just a small one… with a cloth and maybe a box… she’ll like it.”
“Finish eating first,” I said.
She groaned. “You’re so annoying.”
“If you promise me to not skip meals, then we can build a house for her,” I said.
She glared at me immediately, eyes narrowing like I had just committed a crime.
For a second, I thought she would argue.
But instead—she groaned, throwing her head back and squeezing her eyes shut.
“Okay… promise,” she said, dragging the words out like it physically hurt her.
I watched her for a moment.
Making sure.
Then I looked away, a faint smile tugging at my lips before I could stop it.
“We’ll build a house for her tomorrow,” I said.
She chuckled softly, shaking her head.
“See? Didn’t I tell you… you love us,” she said, glancing at me before looking back at the kitten.
“Hell no,” I replied instantly.