The screen of the computer glowed like a tiny fire in the darkness of Catherine's apartment. Outside, the rain beat against the window like the fingers of a restless hand, but in here, all was silent, save the clicking of the keyboard and the gentle thrum of the laptop fan.
Catherine was twenty-six years old, freshly returned from a week-long meeting with clients in Singapore, still groggy from the flight and smelling of airplane coffee and jasmine perfume from the duty-free shop in the airport. Her most recent project, a branding campaign for a high-end cat café in Tokyo, had kept her awake till 3 a.m. the night before. Tonight, past midnight again, she should have been in bed, not reading the "Cat Confessions" section of the internet, where people shared low resolution photographs of their pets and told secrets they'd never share in the real world.
She clicked refresh, as was her habit.
A new thread was at the top of the page.
Title: My cafe's midnight visitor steals my heart (and my trash)
Posted by HubbyWithCoffee
I know this is going to sound weird, but there's this stray cat, black, one white sock, who comes to my cafe every night around closing time. He sits on my dumpster like he owns the place, looks at me through my back door window, meows like he's judging my life choices. Tonight, he let me scratch his chin for three whole seconds before he batted at me and took off. I think I might be in love. Can someone please send me help/tuna?
Catherine found herself smiling. She hadn't smiled in days. She clicked into the comments.
Someone had posted a picture of their cat, who was wearing a miniature chef's hat. Someone else had suggested that the stray be named Bandit. And then, hidden under twelve other comments, she typed:
WifeyWithWanderlust: Iconic sock. I have the same sock on my balcony cat. Either we're experiencing a cat ghost invasion, or there's a cat mafia that's operating globally.
She didn't hesitate. She didn't think. She simply hit the send button.
The response came sooner than she expected.
HubbyWithCoffee: Wait. You're serious. Same left paw. Send me a pic, or you didn't even see that cat. And if we're dealing with the cat mafia here, I'm going to need backup. One apron and poor fighting skills don't cut it.
Catherine let out a laugh that was sharp and surprised. She hadn't laughed like that in months.
She picked up her phone and went into the photo gallery. She looked for the most recent photo of the cat on the balcony railing. It was a ginger cat waving one white paw at her. She uploaded the photo.
WifeyWithWanderlust: [attached image]
Exhibit A. Your bandit's evil twin?
Thirty seconds later:
HubbyWithCoffee: Holy crap. Twins. Or clones. Or we're both being pranked by the universe. I'm sending proof.
A photo was uploaded. Same dumpster background, same rainy night lighting. A black cat with the telltale white sock, gazing directly into the camera with golden-green eyes that seemed to say, "You're late with my tribute."
Catherine's chest did a funny flip.
WifeyWithWanderlust: Okay, this is officially creepy-cute. Are you in the city too?
HubbyWithCoffee: Small world. Corner of Maple and 7th. Tiny place called Brewed Promises. Mostly coffee, pastries, existential cat crises.
She knew the place. She'd walked past it a hundred times, always intending to go in, always getting distracted by something else. The window display had fairy lights and a sign made of chalk that read "Today's special: survive Monday with caffeine and cat memes."
WifeyWithWanderlust: I literally live four blocks away. How have we never met?
HubbyWithCoffee: Fate was waiting for the perfect cat-related icebreaker, obviously.
Also hi. I'm Luffy.
And yes, I know it's a ridiculous name. Blame my parents. They were big anime fans.
Catherine hesitated only a second.
WifeyWithWanderlust: Catherine.
And I love ridiculous names. Makes life more interesting.
Also… hi back.
That was the beginning.
They talked until 4:17 a.m.
He told her about the café about how he'd opened the café after his parents died in a car accident three years ago. How he'd put every last piece of his grief and hope into the espresso shots and cinnamon rolls. How the stray cat was the only living thing that came around the café after midnight.
She told him about the travel about the endless airports and hotel rooms that all smelled the same. How sometimes she didn't know what city she was in until she looked at her boarding pass. How coming home to her empty apartment felt heavier every time.
HubbyWithCoffee: You sound like you need better coffee when you get back.
Come by tomorrow? First latte's on me. I'll even draw a cat on the foam.
WifeyWithWanderlust: You're dangerous.
Deal.
The next afternoon she walked into Brewed Promises wearing jeans, a soft gray sweater, and nerves that felt like butterflies with combat boots.
He was behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he packed the espresso grounds into the espresso machine. When the bell over the door rang out, he looked up and froze.
For a second, they just stared at each other.
And then Luffy grinned, a boyishly charming and devastating smile.
"WifeyWithWanderlust in the flesh," he said, his voice like fresh bread from the oven. "You're taller than I pictured."
"And you're... actually wearing an apron with 'Bean There, Done That' emblazoned on the front," she said, already grinning from ear to ear.
"Guilty," he said, his laugh exactly the same as in his voice notes: rich and unselfconscious. "Welcome home, Catherine."
He made her a lavender latte with a perfect foam cat perched atop the drink. She sat at the counter by the window as he worked the afternoon rush, stealing glances at each other with every hiss of the espresso machine.
When the last customer left, he flipped the sign, turned off the main lights, and left the fairy lights twinkling, and sat down beside her
"So," he said softly, "tell me something real. Not forum stuff. Something you've never told anyone online."
Her eyes dropped back to the cup, and she ran the rim with the ball of her thumb.
"I'm afraid I'll never stop moving," she said softly. "That I'll just keep taking the jobs in the countries over here forever, and staying still will be... dangerous. Like if I stop moving, everything I've been running from will catch up with me."
Luffy reached over and put his hand over hers. His hand was warm and slightly rough from years of handling hot cups of coffee.
"I understand that," he said. "When my parents... when they died, I threw myself at this place with such intensity that I forgot how to stop. But maybe... maybe stopping isn't scary. Maybe it can be... just being. Being with someone."
Her eyes came back up. His were steady, brown and kind and a little bit scared too.
"I'm really glad the cats led us here," she said.
"Me too, wifey," he said softly, trying the word out.
Her heart skipped a beat.
"Hubby," she said, the word tasting sweetly of sugar.
They waited until the streetlights came on.
He walked her home.
At her door, he did not try to kiss her. Instead, he leaned his forehead against hers, inhaled her scent, and whispered, "Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow," she promised.
In her apartment, she leaned against the door, sat down on the floor, and smiled hugely.
Outside, Luffy stood on the sidewalk for a long time, looking up at her window until the light came on.
Smiling to himself.
"Found her," he whispered into the night.
And in the hidden corners of the universe, a promise was being formed, a promise that would last even longer than death.