After saving a stray cat by chance, I started receiving weird texts. [How dare you touch my head today...] [And rub my belly...] [But you did help me.] [I will allow you to be my subject...] [U there?] [Fine, if you want a different reward, that is acceptable.] [U there?] [Is your phone broken?] [Did you not get my messages, or are you ignoring Cat on purpose?] [I saw you today.] (Message retracted) [Cat can provide for you.] [Will you talk to me?] [You can pet Cat's head.] [And rub belly.] 1 It was a Monday night, 11 PM, and I was finally heading home after overtime. At the intersection just before my apartment complex, I hit a red light. Typical. The streets were dead empty at this hour, but I stood there like a chump, waiting for the light to change. That’s when I saw it. A cat. Under the orange glow of the streetlamp, its fur shimmered with a soft light. It ignored me completely, strutting across the street with an arrogant, graceful gait. I watched its slender tail twitch with each step. I really wanted to pet its round head and scratch its back. But then I saw its eyes. Cold, disdainful. That cat looked mean. So I held back. Just as it was about to reach the other side, a low hum grew rapidly louder. I looked up. A massive delivery truck was blowing through the red light, barreling straight toward the cat. The driver’s face was red through the window—drunk driving, probably. The cat was too low, right in the driver's blind spot. The truck was moving too fast. He had no idea his wheels were about to crush a life. 2 I didn't think. I just reacted. I dropped my bag and lunged, scooping the cat up by its middle. I curled around it, hugging it to my chest, and rolled across the asphalt. We narrowly missed the speeding truck. It roared past behind me, leaving a cloud of choking exhaust. The cat in my arms struggled violently. I reached up and patted its head gently. It paused, then finally settled down. The truck disappeared. The street was quiet again. I sat up, still holding the cat. Now that I was close, I saw it was a Maine Coon, dark grey and black. Maybe from the squeeze, its fur was sticking out in all directions like a sea urchin. And in the center of that fluff were piercing azure eyes. It stared at me, pupils narrowed into dangerous slits. It seemed angry. But an angry kitten is just cuter. It was late, but I wasn't in a rush anymore. I sat on the curb and carefully smoothed down its ruffled fur. It looked fierce, but it was warm and soft. It was restless, trying to escape. I grabbed one of its front paws. Its paw pressed against my leg. It looked up, suddenly bringing its face close to mine. I stared blankly into those blue eyes. Up close, they looked like a deep ocean. Then, suddenly, it hissed at me. Impatience? Or anger again? What a grumpy cat. I smiled and rubbed its round head, flicking its thin, fuzzy ears. It seemed stunned. I’d never seen a cat look surprised before. After the shock, it hissed louder, baring sharp fangs. Like it was scolding me for my rudeness. Or trying to intimidate me. But I just found it adorable. 3 I fumbled for my bag, trying to find a snack for it. Nothing. All the shops on the street were closed. So I tugged its paw apologetically. "Sorry, I don't have any food for you." It kept staring at me with those fierce blue eyes. I didn't care if it understood. I just kept talking. "Are you hungry?" I asked. No response. I reached down and rubbed its warm belly. The cat flinched. Then it slipped out of my hands like liquid, hissed at me one last time, and in a fit of pique, bit my sleeve before disappearing into the darkness. After it left, I saw the teeth marks on my cuff. And on my leg, a dusty paw print it left behind. So cute. 4 I didn't chase it. Once it was gone, the adrenaline faded, and I felt the stinging pain in my arm and knee. I checked under the streetlamp. Scrapes and bruises from rolling on the ground. The next morning, the news reported a drunk driver arrested at an intersection. Seeing the familiar truck on TV, I thought of the cat's cold, disdainful blue eyes. But only for a moment. I had to dive back into the exhausting grind of work. My first year in the corporate world was brutal. The pressure left no room for anything else. It wasn't until about two weeks later that I noticed the weird texts from a strange number. The first two were bizarre: [How dare you touch my head today...] [And rub my belly...] Touching head, rubbing belly—intimate actions. I frowned, looking at the weird 7-digit number. I assumed it was a phishing scam. But scrolling down, two days later: [But you did help me.] [I will allow you to be my subject...] Subject? Like a king's subject? Wait. The cat. Reading this, I suddenly remembered the stray I saved two weeks ago. That cat was so arrogant and beautiful. Even after weeks, I remembered its blue eyes, its disdain, its soft grey fur. I scrolled up. Was this the owner?
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