章節 62: ch-59
The sky was painted with shades of orange as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the windows of Suraj and Aryan's modest home. Aryan, sitting cross-legged on the floor near the window, kept glancing outside expectantly. His usual playful demeanor was replaced with a quiet anticipation. He fiddled with a small bowl, the remnants of warm milk swirling inside, as he waited for his little guest to arrive.
It had been ten days since the unexpected rainstorm brought the drenched feline into his life. On that first night, Aryan had been startled by the soft tapping sound against the glass. When he peeked outside, he saw a small, soaking wet cat huddled against the window ledge. Its fur was matted from the downpour, and its large, round eyes blinked at him with a mixture of fear and desperation.
Aryan had hesitated at first, unsure if it was safe to approach. But his compassionate nature quickly overpowered any doubt. He slowly opened the window, speaking in a soft, reassuring voice, "It's okay... I won't hurt you." The cat's initial resistance melted as Aryan reached out and gently stroked its head. It didn't flinch; instead, it leaned into his touch as though seeking comfort.
Aryan had hurriedly found an old cloth, wrapping it around the shivering creature to dry it off. As he worked, he noticed something odd—its belly was unusually swollen. He frowned, wondering if the cat had eaten too much or if something was wrong. Deciding not to worry about it for the moment, he focused on helping it feel warm and safe.
He placed a small bowl of milk in front of the cat, watching with a smile as it eagerly drank. "You must've been so hungry," Aryan murmured. After finishing, the cat curled up on the cloth, resting its head on its paws. Aryan wanted to play with it, but seeing how exhausted it looked, he decided to let it rest.
The cat stayed for three hours that night before moving toward the window. Aryan opened it, watching as it gracefully leapt down to the ground. "Come back if you need food!" he called out, not knowing if it understood him. To his surprise, the very next evening, the same cat returned, meowing at the window.
From that day on, it became a routine. Aryan would prepare a small meal for the cat, eagerly awaiting its arrival each evening. The two formed a bond that grew stronger with each passing day. The cat, which Aryan affectionately called "Chhoti," would purr contentedly as he patted its head. Chhoti's swollen stomach still puzzled Aryan, but he dismissed it, thinking it might be the result of overeating.
One day, as Aryan ran his hand over Chhoti's belly, he felt a strange sensation—a faint movement under his palm. He frowned, unsure of what it meant, but decided not to dwell on it. Instead, he focused on their shared moments of joy, playing with Chhoti using a ball of yarn or simply sitting beside it as it lounged lazily.
Now, on the tenth day of this routine, Aryan was growing restless. Chhoti was late. He glanced at the clock and then back at the window, a sinking feeling forming in his chest. "Where are you?" he muttered under his breath. Just as he began to worry that something might have happened, a familiar meow broke the silence.
Aryan jumped to his feet and rushed to the window, throwing it open. "You're late, Chhoti!" he scolded playfully, but his smile faded as he got a closer look at the cat. Chhoti seemed tense, her movements slow and deliberate. Her swollen belly looked even larger than before, and her meows were softer, almost pained.
"What's wrong?" Aryan asked, his voice laced with concern. He carefully lifted Chhoti into his arms, noticing how she squirmed slightly before settling against him. The warmth of her body and the slight trembling he felt sent a jolt of panic through him. "Are you hurt?"
He placed her on a soft cushion and crouched beside her, stroking her fur gently. Chhoti's breathing was labored, and she seemed restless, shifting her position frequently. Aryan's mind raced as he tried to figure out what was wrong. He had never taken care of a cat before, let alone one that appeared to be in distress.
His hands shook as he reached for his phone and dialed Suraj's number. The phone rang twice before Suraj answered, his voice calm but curious. "Aryan? Everything okay?"
"Bhaiya," Aryan said, his tone urgent. "Can you come home? It's... it's important."
Suraj's voice immediately turned serious. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, but... just please come home. Quickly," Aryan said before abruptly ending the call, too anxious to explain further.
Suraj stared at his phone, his heart pounding. Aryan rarely called him during work hours, and when he did, it was never for something trivial. The urgency in his brother's voice unsettled him. Without wasting a second, he grabbed his keys and rushed out of the Bharat+ headquarters, leaving his team mid-discussion.
The drive home felt like an eternity. Suraj's mind raced with worst-case scenarios. Had Aryan hurt himself? Was there an intruder? His foot pressed harder on the accelerator, weaving through traffic with a singular focus—getting home to his brother.
Back at home, Aryan knelt beside Chhoti, whispering soothing words in an attempt to calm her. His heart ached, seeing her in such discomfort. He felt helpless, unsure of what to do but determined to keep her safe until Suraj arrived.
"Please, Bhaiya," Aryan whispered to himself, glancing at the door. "Hurry."
And so, the moments stretched, the air thick with tension, as Aryan anxiously awaited Suraj's arrival, clinging to the hope that together, they could figure out how to help the little guest who had become so dear to him.
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