Mike, standing outside the door, slid helplessly down the wall. He covered his face with his hands, and his shoulders finally shook with silent sobs. The cat had done what no person could—she had given his daughter her voice back.
An hour later, after Alice had fallen into a deep, cleansing sleep, Mike went into Eleanor’s office. On the massive desk lay a thick envelope addressed to him. Mike opened it with trembling fingers.
“Mike, if you’re reading this, it means my ‘for now’ has ended. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner; I was afraid you would only see a dying woman, not a sister. Yes, we share the same blood. Our father was a complicated man, but he left me you, and that’s the only gift I’m grateful to him for.
You thought I saved you in that park? No, Mike. You saved me. You, Alice, and that gray cat gave me back the humanity I had buried under spreadsheets and contracts. You gave me the chance to die not alone, but loved.
I’m leaving you everything: this house, the company, my name. This isn’t charity; it’s a legacy. Take care of Alice. Take care of Luna and her kittens. They are the heart of this home. She saved you, and you saved me. Look after each other. That’s what family is.”
Mike set the letter down on the desk. Outside, the dawn was breaking—the first truly spring-like dawn.
Three months passed. Eleanor’s garden was transformed: under the old linden tree now stood a neat wooden house with a small porch—exactly the kind Alice had dreamed of. The kittens, now grown and strong, chased each other across the lawn, while Luna watched over them majestically from an open windowsill.
Mike sat in the office. Blueprints for a new housing development for young families lay before him, but now he worked not out of necessity, but with a sense of great responsibility. Alice ran into the room, her cheeks flushed and happy.
— Dad, look! The fifth kitten learned how to catch butterflies!
Mike smiled and called his daughter over. He looked out the window, where the gray cat was basking in the sun on the windowsill. Life went on. Bitter, complicated, but now filled with a meaning and warmth that would never grow cold.
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