Chapter 82

The apartment had that rare kind of peaceful afternoon glow—sunlight spilling through the curtains, dust floating lazily in the air, and the faint sound of a cooking show Jennie had forgotten to pause playing in the background.

It was calm.

Too calm.

Jennie should’ve known something was wrong.

Because the first clue was silence.

The second clue was—

“Bzzzzzzzzzzzz.”

Jennie froze in the kitchen doorway, one hand still holding a cup.

That sound was not part of their household ecosystem.

Slowly, she turned her head toward the living room.

And immediately regretted it.

Lisa was sitting on the floor like she was in some kind of intense mission briefing. In her lap: Luca, their fluffy, usually majestic cat. Around them: scattered tufts of fur like someone had detonated a pillow.

And in Lisa’s hand—

A pet clipper.

Jennie’s soul briefly left her body.

“…Lisa,” she said carefully, dangerously calm. “Why do you have a buzzing machine near our cat.”

Lisa didn’t even look guilty. That was the worst part.

“Hi,” Lisa said casually. “I’m fixing him.”

Jennie blinked. “Fixing… him.”

Luca meowed once. Loud. Judgmental. Like he was filing a complaint with HR.

Jennie stepped closer slowly, as if sudden movement might worsen the situation. “Lisa… what did you do?”

Lisa paused the clipper and finally looked up, expression completely serious. “It’s fur was heavily tangled and matting.”

A beat.

Jennie stared at her.

Then at Luca.

Then at the uneven patchwork of fur that looked like it had been sculpted during an earthquake.

“YOU WHAT?”

Luca chose that exact moment to wriggle slightly and glare at both of them like he was reconsidering his entire living arrangement.

Lisa gently held him down with one hand. “Relax. I’m being careful.”

“Careful?” Jennie repeated, voice rising. “Lisa, that cat looks like he lost a fight with a hedge trimmer!”

Lisa tilted her head. “He feels better though.”

Jennie crouched down instantly, inspecting Luca. There were indeed patches where the fur was neatly trimmed, and other spots where it was still fluffy and dramatic. It was… surprisingly not as chaotic as it first looked.

But still.

Very alarming.

Jennie gently touched Luca’s back. He immediately melted into her hand like nothing had ever happened, traitor that he was.

Jennie sighed. “Did you at least Google this?”

Lisa nodded proudly. “Yes.”

“That does not reassure me.”

“I watched three videos.”

“That also does not reassure me.”

Luca meowed again, louder this time, and dramatically flopped onto his side like he was fainting from embarrassment.

Jennie pointed at him. “He’s traumatized.”

Lisa leaned closer. “He’s dramatic.”

Jennie gasped. “He’s a BABY.”

Lisa and Luca both looked at her at the same time.

Different expressions. Same level of judgment.

Jennie sighed deeply and sat down beside them. “Okay. Explain. From the beginning. Slowly. With no more buzzing sounds.”

Lisa obediently turned off the clipper.

The sudden silence was almost worse.

Lisa placed it carefully beside her like it was evidence. “He had mats behind his legs and neck. Bad ones. I tried brushing but he kept moving. Then I checked again and it looked uncomfortable.”

Jennie softened slightly, glancing at Luca again.

Lisa continued, more animated now. “And pet groomers are fully booked until next week. So I thought— I can just do a sanitary trim. Easy.”

Jennie slowly turned her head. “Easy.”

Lisa nodded.

Jennie stared at her for a long moment.

Then at the uneven cat.

Then back at Lisa.

“You think THIS is easy.”

Lisa paused. “…In theory.”

Luca suddenly rolled over, stood up, and shook his body dramatically. Fur flew everywhere again like a tiny explosion.

Jennie screamed. “WHY IS HE SNOWING?!”

Lisa blinked. “He’s shedding stress fur.”

“That is NOT a thing.”

Luca walked away mid-conversation like a king abandoning a collapsing kingdom.

Jennie immediately lunged after him. “Luca! Come back here! You can’t just walk away from your own haircut crisis!”

Luca jumped onto the couch, turned around, and stared down at them both like he was above this household drama.

Jennie pointed. “Don’t give me that look.”

Lisa quietly picked up the clippers again.

Jennie whipped her head around. “NO.”

Lisa froze. “I wasn’t going to turn it on.”

“You were THINKING about it.”

Lisa hesitated. “…I might fix the uneven part.”

Jennie grabbed the clipper out of her hand immediately. “Absolutely not. You are banned. From grooming. Forever.”

Lisa gasped. “That’s extreme.”

Jennie narrowed her eyes. “You turned our cat into abstract art.”

Luca meowed in agreement from the couch.

Jennie softened instantly and walked over to him. “Okay, buddy. You’re safe. No more experiments.”

Luca immediately flopped into her lap like he had not just caused emotional chaos in three acts.

Traitor behavior.

Lisa crawled closer, watching them both. “He does feel lighter though.”

Jennie sighed, scratching Luca behind the ears. “He looks like he went through a glow-down.”

Lisa nodded seriously. “A controlled glow-down.”

Jennie burst out laughing again, unable to help it. “Controlled?! Lisa, there are bald patches!”

Lisa looked offended. “Strategic patches.”

Jennie laughed harder, leaning back against the couch. “Strategic my—”

She stopped herself, still laughing.

Lisa, seeing her laugh, relaxed instantly and leaned her head on Jennie’s shoulder.

A beat passed.

Luca purred loudly like he was proud of himself for surviving whatever this was.

Jennie looked down at him. “You’re so lucky you’re cute.”

Luca blinked slowly.

Lisa added, “And resilient.”

Jennie pointed at Lisa without looking away from the cat. “And YOU are lucky I love you.”

Lisa smiled. “I know.”

From the floor, Luca stretched dramatically and jumped down again, walking toward the kitchen like nothing had happened.

Jennie sat up. “Where is he going?”

Lisa peeked. “Food bowl?”

Jennie narrowed her eyes. “After EVERYTHING, he’s going to EAT?”

Lisa nodded. “He’s coping.”

Jennie stood up slowly. “We are booking a groomer tomorrow.”

Lisa quickly followed. “I can supervise.”

“You are not supervising anything.”

“I can learn—”

“No.”

Luca paused at his bowl, glanced back at them like a tiny fluffy critic, and began eating.

Jennie watched him for a long moment.

Then sighed.

“…He really does look lighter.”

Lisa smiled softly. “Told you.”

Jennie bumped her shoulder lightly. “Next time, we are calling a professional.”

Lisa nodded. “Next time.”

A pause.

From the kitchen, Luca knocked over his water bowl slightly.

Jennie didn’t even flinch anymore.

She just said, “Of course he did.”

And somehow, despite the fur everywhere, the uneven patches, and Lisa’s questionable “sanitary trim era,” the apartment still felt warm.

Chaotic.

But warm.

And Luca, mid-chaos, looked completely unbothered—like he had already accepted that living with them meant occasional dramatic life events… and unlimited food.