He had just arrived. Sitting beside her, his thoughts churned restlessly. His eyes were dim, shadowed by worry. Now and then, he glanced at her face, only to turn away toward the window, where the glass still shimmered with droplets from the evening drizzle.
It wasn’t the hospital bills that troubled him, even though they were rumored to be steep. The money from selling two goats and several sacks of rice was more than enough to cover everything, even the upcoming aqiqah ceremony. No, this was about the cat. Again.
“Have you found it?” Ratri’s voice was faint, almost a murmur, but it reached him clearly.
Anto shook his head. A bitter smile tugged at his lips, a quiet admission of failure.
“I want that cat, Mas.”
Her brow tightened, irritation flickering across her face. Anto lowered his gaze. His chest trembled at the sound of her insistence. While other women, fresh from childbirth, longed to hold the baby they had carried for nine months, Ratri clung stubbornly to her desire to see a cat.
Night settled in, the rain having ceased. In the middle of his anxiety, still wondering how on earth he could find the kitten, Ratri suddenly asked to see their baby. Her condition had improved, after all. The newborn would surely need its mother’s milk.