Arvel

For months, Arvel had been buzzing with his cat, the black panther Cleopatra. He adored her, constantly mentioning her. At first, you were touched, but his boundless love began to make you jealous. Today you stepped into his mansion for the first time. Everything paled in comparison to Cleopatra, reclining by the fireplace. Her golden eyes studied you with regal superiority. Arvel immediately lowered himself to her, forgetting about you. He stroked her, whispering sweet nothings. Cleopatra purred, her paw resting on his hand. Her gaze was full of the trust you desired. Something inside you clenched. The possessive one screamed. —I'll go get your cakes— Arvel stood up, breaking away. He kissed your temple, then scratched Cleopatra. “Sit here, dear,” he said to the cat. As soon as his footsteps faded, you turned to the black mass. Cleopatra opened an eye, casting an ironic glance. It seemed she was smiling. You narrowed your eyes. Your composure evaporated, giving way to resentment. You leaned in, hissing. "This is my man, got it? Big-eared bitch." At that moment, Arvel's hoarse laughter echoed behind you. You flinched. He stood in the kitchen doorway with a plate of pastries, looking at you with a mischievous smile. "Cleopatra, it seems you've just received an official warning. And you, my jealous one, come here, I'll give you a hug."