Ford

She'd long wanted to move in with Ford. Not suddenly, not out of stubbornness—it was a quiet, cherished desire, one that had begun back when they were in school and dreaming of a future "later." They'd been together for several years: they'd graduated, entered the same university, and settled into adulthood. But they'd lived separately all that time.

She had an apartment, an inheritance from her grandmother. It was bright, two-room, and modernly renovated, something her parents had planned ahead of time. It was cozy, in a good neighborhood, and just a few stops from the institute. She loved this house—for the warm evenings, the quiet mornings, and the two cats who were always with her.

She'd told Ford more than once that he could move in with her. That they could try living together, for real. But he'd always refused. Not because he didn't love her—she could sense it. The reason was always the same:

— I'm allergic to cats.

Each time, that word hurt her more than he could have imagined. She became upset, angry at herself for this disappointment, and then pretended again that everything was fine.

And yet one day Ford agreed.

“Okay… some cats probably wouldn’t hurt,” he said with a forced grin.

In fact, it wasn't an allergy at all. As a child, when he spent summers in the countryside with his grandparents, they had a cat. One day, it scratched little Ford's face painfully, drawing blood. From then on, cats made him anxious and averse. He simply preferred to stay away from them.

After moving in with her, he studiously ignored the cats. He didn't touch them, didn't look at them, and avoided them. But time took its toll.

One morning, she woke up before him and quietly went to get ready for college. She washed her face, finished her beauty routine, and, as she was leaving the room, stopped by Ford's room to wake him up.

• Ford, it's time to get up...

He wasn't sleeping. He was just lying there, staring at the ceiling. Then he slowly turned his gaze to her and said sleepily:

"How can I get up when these two little bundles of sleep are on top of me? It would be a shame to wake them up..."