February 11th, 2028- 14 Months Later- Two Years Old-

Yuri's POV- 1st Person

"Are you ready?" 

I kneel on the doorstep in front of my daughter, moments before ringing the bell. She smiles brightly and nods, watching the door expectantly, ready to go inside. I glance at my husband, and he shoots me an 'it'll be fine' look before stepping forward and knocking.

The door swings open to Chris, smiling and ushering us inside, though not before bending down to exchange a hug with Sacha who giggles.

"Are you guys ready?" he asks, and, before I can respond, a small voice pipes up,

"Kitty!" 

Chris laughs, "Yeah, you're going to bring her home today, are you excited?" She nods fervently and we make our way inside, searching the hall and the living room for any sign of the requested fluffball. Seeing me, the cat darts up and races to my side, twining in between my legs and purring softly. I bend down and stroke her fur, having really missed having her constant presence around the house.

When Sacha was just a week old, poor Potya was evicted; cats being notorious for suffocating babies and her being no exception- not that we were willing to find out. Chris, having a cat, offered to take her for a while until it was safe to have her around again, an offer we gladly accepted, and since then she's lived with him. I've visited her every week, more often if I could, but the separation's been really hard- both on me and the cat. Finally, though, today we're going to take her home.

Picking up the small creature off the ground, I see out of the corner of my eye Otabek grabbing her travel basket and possessions. As weird as it is to say that a cat has possessions, I don't believe it's the wrong term, this particular feline being very selective about the articles she's presented with, and firmly letting you know what she dislikes.

I gently place Potya inside her cat-basket and soon we take our leave, thanking Chris for everything and giving his cat -Lucy- a quick pet before departing. 

As we get into the car I can't help but notice how Sacha stares at Potya inside the basket, so much intensity and fascination reflected in the little eyes that it makes me think for a second she's older than she is.

The ride home is a quick one, and soon we're walking into the hall, letting the cat out and watching as she roams around, reacclimating to both an old and new environment. Tentatively, she steps into the living room, then, seeming to recognize it, darts beneath the coffee table, looking at me accusingly as if to say 'You moved it!'. I smile slightly at this, then turn to usher my daughter further inside the house and help my husband with the several bags of cat stuff.

We get set up fairly quickly, replacing the litter boxes where they had previously been and instructing Sacha not to play in or near them, a lesson she responded very well to after seeing Potya pee in one. 

As it's getting kind of late, and I'm enjoying the returned presence of my pet far too much, Otabek suggests he make dinner while I supervise the two children (fine, child and cat). Upon my enthusiastic agreement with this, Otabek departs to the kitchen and I retire to the living room, sitting in a chair opposite to the couch where my daughter sits. 

Sacha's currently playing with a doll but looks up often, eyes landing on the cat a few feet away from her, stretched out luxuriously on the carpet. Suddenly, Potya gets up and makes her way over to the little girl, jumping delicately onto the cushion beside her and sniffing the sweater she's taken off. Sacha squirms slightly at this, scooting farther away from the animal and pulling the sweater with her. I frown slightly; the look on her face is far from the one she wore at Chris's house; the curiosity and excitement gone, replaced with uncertainty and reluctance.

"Sacha?" I come over to her, sitting down between the two, "What's wrong?" She doesn't say anything but points tentatively at Potya, now curling up beside me.

"Kitty," She says meekly, and hides behind me, as if the animal intends her harm.

"You're afraid of Potya?" I ask her and she nods, "It's okay," I say gently, "She's nice," Sacha just shakes her head, however, and continues watching the docile cat through large round frightened eyes. "Here," I say and pick up the furry animal, placing her on my lap. 

Sacha looks scared and starts to move away but I stop her, gently taking her hand and pulling her a bit nearer to my side. Guiding her arm, I bring it close to the furball that is Potya, and Sacha shrinks away, watching nervously as if she thinks she'll be bitten. Well, I think, It is a reasonable conclusion.

"Like this," I tell her and set my hand on the soft white and brown fluffball, petting her gently, "Just do this. She likes it- look," A soft rumbling purr emerges from the animal and Sacha watches her, looking slightly less scared and far more confused. "You try it," I tell her and release her hand. She moves it slowly toward, in her mind, the highly threatening creature, stopping mere inches away from its fur. Then, seeming to gather her courage, she touches her, eyes widening at the softness of her fur. 

Her eyebrows knit together in concentration as she exacts long measured strokes of the cat, focusing hard on replicating exactly what I've done. She jumps slightly when Potya begins purring again, then smiles slightly and continues, "It means she's happy," I tell my daughter and she nods, not taking her eyes off the mesmerizing sight of the cat in front of her.

"Yuri-" I turn to see my husband standing in the doorway. He pauses slightly at the scene before him, a soft smile gracing his lips as he looks on at us, but comes quickly back to reality. "Where do we keep the pasta again? I can never seem to find it," 

I lift Potya off my lap and deposit her next to Sacha on the couch, getting up to assist my husband in his forays into the culinary arts. Crossing into the kitchen, I see an array of ingredients on the table, none of which the requested item. Immediately, I go to the cupboard just above the stove, and, rolling my eyes, extract the rectangular box, handing it back to my husband. 

"Why do you have so much trouble remembering where we put that?" I ask him, laughter in my voice, "I swear- it's been kept in the same place for years!"

"No idea," He replies, a smile in his voice, and empties the box into the pot of boiling water on the stove, "Maybe this time it'll stick," 

"Uh-huh," I reply dubiously, my eyebrow raised, then, suddenly hungry at the sight of food, "Do you need any help- it'd be nice to have some salad with this,"

"Sure," He replies, "Thanks," And we set to work.

It only takes us about half an hour to get dinner onto the table, the bulk of the time spent arguing good-naturedly about how long the pasta should cook and checking it incessantly every two minutes to find out. Far be it for us to read the box for directions. Common sense has no place in this house.

We end up having so much fun over our pasta dispute (we wasted a good five minutes just flicking the sauce at each other. I know- what a great influence we are) we never ended up checking on Sacha in the living room during the intervening time. 

"Sacha!" I call as I step through into the next room, "Dinner's ready!" But the words die in my throat as I see the sight before me. Sacha lies on the couch, Potya in her lap (and far too big to fit comfortably might I add), a blanket over them both. The sight is absolutely adorable and I beckon wildly to my husband to come over and look with me. Very confused, he does so and a smile erupts from his face as he sees what I'm talking about.

"That's adorable," He whispers as our daughter stretches in her sleep and turns onto her side, the cat moving as well so they almost form the big and little spoon. From this position, it's obvious that they've gotten more comfortable with each other, and I'm incredibly relieved to see it.

"I'm so glad they get along," I reply, and I feel my husband's smile even as he says nothing, just putting an arm around me and leading me into the room. We end up deciding that dinner can wait, and, joining the pair on the couch, nestle down under the blanket. Together, we form a perfect little family.