The fight had just been one of many.
Not really louder than usual, but maybe a little harsher than the last. As he always did when he felt the really hurtful words rise in his throat, he slapped the door open and ran away, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, all flustered and frustrated. As frustrated as he felt, probably.
As always, he did not go very far. Just to the nearby hangar, where he would bang his tools and curse his ship for the rest of the afternoon.
It was past dinner time when he ventured back. The apartment was silent and dark when he opened the door. The only illumination was coming from the terrace and a cool breeze gently blew the curtains.
He slid inside and almost stepped on a spukamas, who meowed indignantly. The man cursed under his breath.
The animal was a big beast for his species, standing almost as tall as his knee and taller when he raised his long tail in the air. The fur was a mess of patches in violet and silver - the color had been a hit for high society's pets a decade before - and less classy gray and ginger. Guess someone had forgotten to sterilize a kitten before delivering it to the buyer and it had bred with one of the local cat varieties. The eyes where big and yellow, almost intimidating, and part of an ear was missing, no doubt a souvenir from past battles. His wife said there were other scars hidden under the long hairs of his chest too.
Spookie, as she called him – not that he had ever answered to that name - had appeared on the terrace a few days after they had moved there, and without even acknowledging her, he had inspected all the rooms with the air of an owner. He had accepted a plate of bantha milk and fled as soon as her husband had arrived home. The visit had been repeated every afternoon since. If they were not going to be home, the food was left out on the balcony and he had half joked more than once that she was more considered with the cat than with her human companion.
Tonight, Spookie did not go away. He meowed insistently and then disappeared towards the inner rooms. The man followed him, worried that the scandal would wake his wife up and make matters worse.
There was no risk of that, and he knew it for sure as soon as he entered their bedroom. She was not there or anywhere in the apartment.
Man and cat looked into each other's eyes for a few moments, helplessly, and then he was left alone.
Next morning, she did not come back. He commed her brother and asked if his wife was staying there. The answer was affirmative but before the other man could finish the sentence, he had cut the communication. That was enough, she was safe. That was all that mattered.
Man and spukamas developed a routine. He went to work and when he came back, the cat was waiting in the balcony. He offered the creature his food, but he did not accept. After prowling the terrace impatiently a few times, Spookie disappeared to wherever he came from and the man was left alone – again.
The man went to sleep on his side of the giant bed and woke up on the other side, clutching the pillow that still smelled like her.
The fifth day was different. Spookie was waiting for him behind the door and as soon as he entered, he started meowing and pacing around him. He's hungry, he thought. He went to retrieve the plate from the balcony, wanting to replace the previous day's food with fresh one. But the plate was already empty.
The spukamas placed his paws on his knee, looking at him with those golden eyes of his. Then he jumped back and sprinted towards the bedroom. The man followed, shakily.
She was there, curled up and asleep over the big bed.
The cat sat on the bed, next to her feet, and bowed his head, like consenting to something.
The man lay on the bed, curling up around his wife.
He was soon asleep too.
Spookie purred happily.