The Cat Who Watched Us Drown

The rain hadn't stopped in three days. Elena stood by the window, watching water trace paths down the glass like the tears she refused to cry. Her apartment felt smaller somehow, compressed by the weight of everything unsaid between her and Marcus.

"You're not eating," Marcus said from the kitchen, the rhythm of his chopping knife too precise. He'd been obsessed with health lately — raw spinach salads, green juices, lectures about inflammation. As if optimism could be measured in micronutrients.

"Not hungry."

He slid a bowl across the counter. Spinach leaves glistened under kitchen lights, arranged with geometric precision. "You need to take care of yourself, El. Especially with the merger coming up."

The merger. The reason her boss, that corporate bull who'd built his career on other people's exhaustion, had been scheduling midnight meetings. Elena had found herself sobbing in the office bathroom last week, water from the faucet masking the sounds of her unraveling.

"I'm fine," she said, though the words felt like stones in her throat.

A ginger cat wound around her ankles then — Barnaby, Marcus's emotional support animal, though Elena suspected the cat mainly supported himself. Barnaby blinked up at her with ancient, judgmental eyes, then leaped onto the windowsill to watch the rain.

"He knows something's wrong," Marcus said softly.

"He's a cat, Marcus. He knows when his food bowl is empty."

"You think I don't see it?" He set down his knife. "The way you come home hollowed out. The way you stare at water like you're thinking about — "

"Don't."

" — about how easy it would be to just let go."

The silence stretched between them, taut and trembling. Outside, thunder rolled across the sky like something massive stirring in its sleep.

"My father called today," Marcus said finally. "He asked if we're still coming for Christmas."

"I can't face them like this."

"Then don't." Marcus crossed the room, wrapped his arms around her waist. She stiffened, then softened against his chest. "Eat something. Sleep. Tomorrow, we'll figure out how to quit that goddamn job."

Barnaby purred from the windowsill, watching them with approval. The rain kept falling, but the apartment felt suddenly less small.