The neighbors said it was a curse.
I said it was fate.
Perhaps there was no woman more peculiar, more unsettling, even than Ratri. While other pregnant women craved sweets or sour fruits, Ratri longed for something that left Anto utterly baffled. At first, he thought it was just another passing whim, the kind that would fade once the baby arrived. After all, didn’t every woman forget her cravings eventually? But he was wrong, terribly wrong. It wasn’t enough for Ratri to care for her own child; she wanted, just as fiercely, to raise a kitten.
It all began six months ago, when a stray kitten slipped quietly through the back door of their kitchen. It was pitiful to look at, barely two months old, its body crawling with fleas, its skin covered in festering sores. Thin to the bone, one of its legs was crippled, forcing it to limp awkwardly with every step. Green flies hovered around it constantly, as if it carried decay wherever it went. Anyone who saw it would have turned away in disgust, perhaps even retched.
At the time, Ratri was three months pregnant. Anto feared for his wife, and their unborn child. He chased the kitten away, harshly, refusing to let it linger near the house. Word spread quickly. The neighbors talked. Some whispered, others condemned him outright. A cat, an animal the Prophet himself was said to cherish, should have been treated with kindness. Yet Anto had driven it off without so much as offering food.
By the time Ratri reached her seventh month, the strange longing returned. She wanted that very kitten again. Anto refused. How could he possibly find a stray that had come and gone without a trace?