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The cool night air wrapped around them as they left the ice cream shop, saying goodbye to Sieun, Juntae, Baku, and Gotak. The bowling afternoon had been surprisingly fun, and despite the fatigue settling in his muscles and lower back, Sooho walked with a lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time. Hyeori was at his side, her head resting on his shoulder, humming a cheerful, off-key melody. Their fingers were intertwined.
“Today was a good day,” Hyeori murmured, giving his hand a little squeeze. “It’s been a while since I laughed that much. Baku is too funny, and Gotak… wow, he really surprised me. He’s so good at bowling!”
“Yeah, it was awesome,” Sooho agreed with a smile. “And Gotak’s a good guy. I really liked him. Baku too, though he’s a bit exhausting sometimes.”
“You finally found someone who can wear you out—that’s impressive,” Hyeori teased, laughing. “I’m glad you got to connect with them.”
They walked slowly, enjoying the quiet of the less busy streets. The echo of their footsteps and soft voices were the only sounds accompanying them. Their conversation shifted to their plans for the week, Hyeori’s schoolwork, and the kind of little things that—after everything—felt like a routine they couldn’t wait to build together.
Then, as they passed by a small, dark alley filled with garbage bins, a sharp, pitiful sound broke the peaceful silence around them. A faint, almost imperceptible meow reached their ears.
They both stopped in their tracks.
“Did you hear that?” Hyeori whispered, tilting her head to listen.
“Yeah… I think it came from in there…” Sooho replied, nodding toward the alley.
Cautiously, they moved closer. The smell of trash grew stronger. Sooho, mindful of his back, moved carefully between the obstacles. Hyeori stayed close behind him. The meowing came again—slightly louder this time—and was quickly followed by a second one, just as weak.
“Ah… sounds like… really tiny kittens…” Hyeori said, worry lacing her voice.
They turned on their phone flashlights and scanned the darkest corner of the alley. And there, curled up against the cold wall behind a torn cardboard box, they saw them: two tiny furballs, no bigger than Hyeori’s palm. One was a vibrant orange, the other a brown so dark it looked black under the artificial light. Their eyes were tightly shut, and their little bodies trembled—either from the cold or from fear.
“Oh, Sooho…” Hyeori whispered, bringing a hand to her mouth. “They look like newborns…”
Sooho crouched down slowly, placing one hand on his knee for support. A jolt of pain shot through his back, but he ignored it. Carefully, he extended a finger toward the orange kitten, who meowed louder—its cry sharp and desperate, as if it feared he might hurt it.
“Doesn’t look like the mother’s anywhere nearby… Do you think they were abandoned?” Sooho asked, voice low and serious. “It’s cold. I don’t think they’ll last long out here alone…”
“We can’t leave them, love…” Hyeori said, urgency creeping into her voice as her eyes stayed locked on the tiny kittens. “They’ll die out here.”
Sooho nodded, his heart aching at the sight of the helpless animals. “You’re right. But what do we do? We can’t just take them home like this… They need special care. I don’t think they’re even a week old.”
“I know, but… we can try, right?” Hyeori looked at him, eyes pleading. “Please. I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing we left them here.”
That look in her eyes, the compassion in her voice—it erased any hesitation he had.
“Alright,” he said, offering a small smile. “Let’s take them. But carefully…”
Very gently, after murmuring to the kittens to let them know he wasn’t a threat, Sooho slid his hands underneath the tiny bodies. They were unbelievably light—fragile. He stood up slowly, making sure not to make any sudden movements that could hurt the kittens or strain his back. The tiny creatures curled instinctively against the warmth of his chest, their cries softening.
Hyeori watched them, her heart pounding with both worry and tenderness.
They looked like tiny babies hiding against their father’s chest.
“They’re so small…” she murmured, gently stroking the brown kitten’s head with the tip of her finger. It fit entirely in Sooho’s hand.
“We need to get them home fast, get them warm. And food. They’ll need milk, but not regular milk…” Sooho thought aloud, eyeing the kittens. “We’ll need small syringes to feed them—they’re way too small for bottles.”
“There’s a 24-hour pharmacy a few blocks from here, right? And a convenience store nearby too. Maybe they have something for pets—or at least evaporated milk. I read once you can give it, very diluted, if there’s nothing else.”
“Smart thinking. Let’s go. Be careful, sweetheart—don’t slip.”
They walked as quickly as Sooho’s condition and the kittens in his arms allowed. At the pharmacy, Sooho waited outside with the babies tucked inside his jacket for warmth, while Hyeori ran in and got two small syringes—no needles. At the convenience store, they were lucky: a tiny can of special formula for newborn kittens.
With supplies in hand and the kittens still pressed to Sooho’s chest, they finally made it home. First thing, Hyeori grabbed a medium-sized cardboard box. She ran to get an old, soft towel and laid it down to make a makeshift nest. Sooho handed over the kittens, and she carefully settled them inside.
“Okay, now the milk…” Hyeori said, reading the instructions on the can. “It needs to be warmed a little—just lukewarm.”
While Sooho carefully prepared the formula, Hyeori watched the kittens. They squirmed weakly, pressing against each other for warmth, letting out tiny mews. They were the definition of helpless.
Once the milk was ready, Hyeori helped fill one of the syringes. She tried with the brown one first, holding the tip near its mouth and squeezing gently. At first, the kitten didn’t seem to understand—but then, instinct took over. It began suckling clumsily, drops of milk disappearing.
“He’s eating!” Hyeori whispered, excited, watching with joy.
Sooho smiled and sat down beside her to try with the orange one. The process was slow, requiring lots of patience. The kittens would suck a little, stop to rest, and then try again. Sooho’s large hands moved with such tenderness that it made Hyeori’s chest ache—in the best way.
After what felt like forever—but was barely twenty minutes—the kittens were finally full. They curled into the towel, mewling less and less until they fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. Their tiny bodies stopped shaking.
Sooho and Hyeori sat in silence, still on the floor next to the box. The rush of the rescue was fading, replaced by something deeper: tenderness… and a brand new responsibility.
Then Hyeori grew still. Her smile faded slowly, and a shadow of sadness crossed her face. Though her eyes remained on the sleeping kittens, her expression was far away.
“They’re so… fragile,” she whispered.
Sooho looked at her, concern growing. “What’s wrong, love?”
She didn’t answer right away. A couple of quiet tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them with the back of her hand, but Sooho had already seen.
“They remind me of…” she swallowed hard, voice cracking. “…Jaxx and Nala. When they were babies.”
It was a wound that hadn’t fully healed.
A sharp ache shot through Sooho’s chest at the memory. He slowly wrapped his arms around her, holding her gently but firmly. Hyeori buried her face in his shoulder and let out a quiet sob.
“I miss them so much,” she whispered between tears. “They were so good… and I wasn’t there for them at the end like I should’ve been. I was so caught up in my own pain…”
“Shhh, sweetheart. Don’t say that,” Sooho soothed, running his fingers through her hair. “You did everything you could. You were going through hell. They knew how much you loved them. They knew.“
They stayed like that for a while. Hyeori cried silently, letting out grief she’d kept buried for too long. Sooho just held her, rocking her gently, whispering comforting words in her ear.
When her sobs finally eased, she looked up. Her eyes were red and puffy, but her expression was calmer. Sooho wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.
They both turned to look at the sleeping kittens again. The little orange one twitched in its sleep and let out the cutest sound.
“We could… we could keep them, right?” Hyeori asked, her voice still shaky but filled with hope.
Sooho looked into her eyes and saw it—that desire to care, to give love again. “Of course we can,” he said without hesitation. “If you want them, they’re ours. We’ll give them a home. They’ll be our babies.”
A trembling but genuine smile bloomed on her face. Her expression lit up. “Really? We could… name them, too. One’s a boy and the other’s a girl, right? The orange one looks like a girl, and the dark one a boy…”
“Yeah, I think so,” Sooho nodded, catching her contagious excitement. Seeing that spark back in her eyes after so much sadness—it was the best gift. “Let’s name the orange one Sieun and the brown one Juntae.”
Hyeori laughed. “You’re recycling names now? Those poor boys will never hear the end of it.”
“They’re great names,” Sooho insisted, watching her ramble about potential names, her imagination already running wild. Then he glanced down at the sleeping kittens, and a strange but comforting idea crossed his mind. He spoke softly, almost like he was thinking aloud.
“You know… my grandma used to say that good souls always find a way back. Jaxx and Nala loved you so much. Maybe… maybe they wanted to be close to you again. Just like I came back… maybe they’ve found their way back too.”
Hyeori looked at him, eyes wide, absorbing his words. It was a bit whimsical, sure—but in that moment, surrounded by the warmth and vulnerability of the little kittens, it felt like the most beautiful thing in the world. Another tear rolled down her cheek, but this time it was different. It was sweet.
“Do you really think so?” she whispered.
“I don’t know for sure,” Sooho admitted with a small smile. “But I like to believe it. I like to think that love is strong enough to always find its way back.“
Hyeori nodded slowly, a quiet peace settling in her chest. She looked again at the kittens—so tiny, with so much life ahead. Maybe, just maybe, Sooho was right. Maybe they were a gift. A second chance to give and receive that unconditional love only animals can offer.
She curled up against him again, exhausted but strangely happy, filled with that soft, bittersweet kind of joy. The apartment, somehow, already felt a little less empty. A little more like home.
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