Emma hadn’t left her apartment in days. After quitting her job and a breakup that left her drained, the world outside felt too loud, too fast. Even the plants by her window were wilting — a quiet reflection of how she felt inside.

One rainy afternoon, a soft meow broke the silence. Emma opened the door slightly and saw a scruffy grey cat, soaked and trembling. For a moment, she hesitated. Then something — maybe instinct, maybe loneliness — made her step outside.

She brought the cat in, dried it gently, and poured some milk into a chipped mug. The cat, cautious but hungry, took small sips and curled up beside her. Emma hadn’t felt companionship like that in months.

She named her Misty.

Over the next few days, Misty never left Emma’s side. The cat would nudge her hand for pets, follow her to the kitchen, and curl up on her chest whenever she felt anxious. The silence of the apartment was now filled with gentle purring.

Taking care of Misty gave Emma something to wake up for. She began opening the blinds, airing the room, even stepping outside for cat food. The first time she smiled again was when Misty chased a feather toy around in circles and fell over herself.

Neighbors started noticing Emma walking around the block with a carrier bag and a small grey head poking out. One said, “It’s good to see you again.” Emma replied, “I think she saved me more than I saved her.”

Misty may have been a stray, but she brought structure, warmth, and quiet hope to Emma’s chaotic world. She didn’t need to speak — her presence said it all: “You’re not alone.”