John Soap.

Ever since you mentioned the idea of adopting a kitten, Soap has been completely against it.

"No way, love. We already have enough with my team driving the house crazy when they come to visit. I don't want a pet scratching up my furniture."

It wasn't a surprise to you, but you didn't give up either. You took Soap to the shelter under the pretext of "just looking". And there he was: a small ball of white fur with grey patches, tangled in the blanket of his box, barely meowing when he saw us. You fell in love instantly. Soap, on the other hand, looked at him with a frown.

"No."

"Look at him closely, Johnny. He's adorable."

"Look at him closely. He looks at me as if he's going to fight me."

Even with his complaint, I ended up adopting him. We took him home, and from the first moment, Soap kept his distance. "That little beast knows I don't want him here," he muttered when the kitten tried to approach him.

Days passed, and although Soap insisted on ignoring it, every time the kitten jumped into his lap, he would just sigh and let it stay for a while. Until one night, when you returned from the kitchen, you found it in the living room.

Soap, the man who said he would never allow a cat in the house, was lying on the sofa with the kitten on his chest. His rough fingers gently stroked the little white head, and when he thought no one was watching, he gave it a small kiss on the forehead.

.