I never thought I’d be put in a position like this.

When my boyfriend, Ryan, and I decided to move in together, I thought it was the start of something great. We had been dating for over a year, and everything seemed to be falling into place. Well, almost everything.

There was one issue—Milo. My cat.

Ryan never really liked him. Said he was “too much,” always in the way, shedding fur, jumping on the bed. I brushed it off, thinking he just needed time to adjust.

Then, one night, out of nowhere, he hit me with it.

“It’s me or the cat,” he said, arms crossed. “I can’t live like this.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I mean it,” he continued. “Either Milo goes, or I do.”

I laughed, thinking he was joking. But his face? Dead serious.

“Ryan, this is my cat. I’ve had him for years. He’s family.”

“And I’m supposed to be your future,” he shot back. “You’re choosing an animal over our relationship?”

That’s when it hit me.

This wasn’t just about the cat. This was about control. About him thinking he could walk into my life, demand I get rid of something I love, and I’d just… comply.

So I took a deep breath, looked him in the eye, and said, “I already made my choice.”

His face darkened, but then, suddenly, he sighed. “Okay, fine,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “Maybe I overreacted.”

I was taken aback. “What?”

“I just… I got frustrated. Milo’s hair gets on my work suits, and yeah, it annoys me. But maybe we can keep him out of the bedroom and get his fur trimmed or something. I don’t actually want to break up over a cat.”

Relief flooded me. I wanted to believe he meant it, that this was just a moment of frustration. So I agreed. We started keeping Milo out of the bedroom, and I made sure to vacuum more. Things seemed to settle.

For a while.

But something felt off.

Milo started acting strangely. He’d hide more often, flinch when I picked him up, and sometimes refuse to eat. At first, I thought he was sick. The vet found nothing wrong. But the feeling in my gut wouldn’t go away.

Then, one evening, I came home earlier than expected and couldn’t find Milo anywhere. After searching, I finally heard faint scratching—from inside the storage room.

I opened the door, and there he was. Locked inside.

Something snapped inside me. I knew I hadn’t put him there. And Ryan wasn’t even home yet.

That night, I installed a small nanny cam in the living room, pointing towards Milo’s usual spots. I needed to know what was going on.

The next day, while at work, I checked the footage from my phone. What I saw made my blood run cold.

Ryan wasn’t just locking Milo in the storage room. He wasn’t doing it out of spite, either.

A woman came over. A tall brunette, someone I’d never seen before. And the moment she stepped inside, Ryan hurriedly grabbed Milo and shoved him away—out of sight. As they moved to the couch, laughing, I watched as Ryan discreetly shut the storage door.

I fast-forwarded. Two hours later, she left, and only then did Ryan let Milo out, acting as if nothing happened.

My hands were shaking as I watched it again. And then I noticed something—the woman kept rubbing her arms, sneezing occasionally.

That’s when it clicked.

She was allergic to cats.

Ryan hadn’t wanted Milo gone because of the fur. He hadn’t been “frustrated” at all. He had a mistress, and Milo was in the way.

That night, when Ryan came home, I confronted him. I didn’t tell him about the camera right away. Instead, I asked, “Be honest. Have you ever locked Milo in the storage room?”

He scoffed. “What? No. Why would I do that?”

I tilted my head. “You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he snapped. “Why are you even asking?”

That’s when I showed him the footage.

His face drained of color.

“I… it’s not what it looks like,” he started.

“Oh, really?” I held up my phone, playing the part where the woman sneezed. “Is she just a coworker? A friend? Or someone you didn’t want around my cat because she’s allergic?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it. He had no excuse. No way out.

I didn’t yell. I didn’t cry. I just pointed to the door. “Get out.”

“Wait, can we just—”

“No. Now.”

And that was it. He left, and I never looked back.

Milo? He took some time to bounce back, but he’s doing great now.

The real lesson here? Trust your gut. And never let anyone make you choose between something you love and their selfishness.

Oh, and always trust your pets. They see things we don’t.

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