I screamed.
Not because I saw my father-in-law.
Not because he was lying there between us.
But because of what was moving across my back.
For a few seconds, my mind refused to understand what my eyes were seeing.
A small, trembling creature was crawling out from the folds of the blanket near my husband’s side.
A tiny newborn kitten.
Its little paws were pressing against my back, and every time it moved, its sharp claws lightly scratched my skin, creating that strange tickling sensation that had kept me awake for hours.
I stared at it in complete disbelief.
“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.
