“A cat?” I whispered.
The room went silent.
My father-in-law quickly sat up, his expression changing from calm to panic.
My husband immediately reached over and grabbed the kitten.
“Wait… I can explain,” he said.
But I wasn’t looking at the kitten anymore.
I was looking at both of them.
Because suddenly, the ridiculous story about a “family tradition” didn’t feel like the strangest thing in the room.
The strangest thing was that my husband had known.
He had known his father would come into our room.
He had known I would be uncomfortable.
And now I was realizing he had also known about the kitten.
“What is going on?” I asked.
My voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
My husband’s face changed.
The confident smile he had worn earlier disappeared.
My father-in-law lowered his eyes and slowly placed the kitten on the bed.
“It’s not what you think,” he said.
