"Before I stepped into a world with twin moons, I lost something precious under a single one."

  "He was gone. No door broken. No window open. Just silence—and a half-warm bowl of milk untouched."

  Author note:

  This is a story that asks a lot of 'what-ifs'.

  What if spirits are real?

  What if humans aren't the dominant species?

  For me, it begins with a simpler question—what if my cats never really left?

  If you stay past Chapter 3, you'll begin to uncover a world where animals rule, humans obey, and something ancient is waking between the twin moons.

  ?━━━━━???━━━━━?

  But before all of that... there was just one moon. And a silence I still can't forget.

  ?━━━━━???━━━━━?

  I remember the day Momo disappeared like it was yesterday. Everything in my life came to a screeching halt.

  When I first saw them—

  Four fragile things. Eyes not opened. Barely a week old. Smaller than my palm. Huddled in a Summer-brand box, shoved in the corner of my apartment.

  

  

  Eenie—the orange one, fluffy, warm-toned boy, who always nestled closest, like he was guarding the others.

  Meanie—the tortoiseshell one, the sweet little lady, calm, observant, and bites.

  Miney—the white one with random black spots, curious, energetic boy, always the first to wriggle or squeak.

  Momo—the black one, spiky, sickly boy.

  That was the first time I held little life and death in my hands—and didn't know it yet.

  ?━━━━━???━━━━━?

  Having been abandoned by their mother at such a fragile age, they were said to have a poor prognosis. The lack of maternal colostrum meant it was nothing short of a miracle that any of them survived.

  Newborn kittens had to be fed three-hourly. They could not defecate or urinate on their own. After each feeding, they had to be stimulated around their perineum.

  I did not know that at first.

  They ended up constipated, and I had to take them to a vet for laxatives.

  Then came the diarrhea—probably overdose on the same meds. I had to bring them in again for antidiarrheals.

  It was exhausting caring for them alone. But the little purs they made while sleeping on my chest... or when they tailed me around with those little legs like fuzzy caterpillars—

  They drained my energy.

  But they filled my soul.

  ?━━━━━???━━━━━?

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  Unfortunately, three of them didn't make it past their first month. Fading kitten syndrome.

  Infection. Hypoglycemia. Genetic flaws. Even the cold.

  Everything could kill their tiny, fragile bodies.

  I used to think that 'one in ten kittens dies in the first month' was just a statistic.

  I was wrong.

  But Momo lived.

  Against all odds. Despite being the smallest one among the litter.

  And he had grown up to be a kitten with boundless energy.

  A five-month-old boy.

  Always play-hunting his mouse toy. Jumped onto the table. Begged for food with his wide yellow eyes—like I hadn't already fed him four times per day.

  

  

  I was a junior doctor in Malaysia, working in the emergency department after completing my training. I'd been posted far from home for a year.

  Burnout. Mundane routine. No support.

  It piled up until I could barely breathe.

  I was adrift—lost in a sea of meaningless flings and short-term companionships.

  Then, he came into my life—and became my island.

  The only place I could stand on without sinking.

  ?━━━━━???━━━━━?

  And yet...

  One day, I went to work. When I came home, he was gone.

  Without a trace.

  Without a sign.

  Just... gone.

  ?━━━━━???━━━━━?

  I spent days and weeks, tirelessly searching. Posting flyers. Checking shelters. Asking neighbors.

  I begged. Pleaded. Blamed myself.

  And I prayed—yes, prayed.

  I was never the religious type, but that's what I became.

  But time flies.

  Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

  Eventually, I realized something.

  He wasn't just missing.

  He was gone.

  Permanently.

  ?━━━━━???━━━━━?

  But the world didn't stop for him, or me.

  I was in the ED one night when things started to get strange.

  They brought in a man for abnormal behavior. He was disheveled and wild-eyed. His shirt was torn and stained. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

  At first, I assumed he was another overdose, maybe a psych case. I'd seen it before.

  But as he sat on the gurney, clutching his arms and muttering, something felt... off.

  "Portals... hidden... behind the veil... can't see it, can't touch it..."

  I walked to him, clipboard in hand, trying to keep my tone even.

  "Sir, you're safe. Can you tell me your name? Do you know where you are?"

  He looked at me, eyes wide and glassy.

  "You don't understand... they're waiting. Not here. Somewhere else. A place where they speak. The animals... they... speak like us."

  I exchanged a look with the nurse beside me. "Probably meth," I whispered.

  And then, he said something that my fingers go numb.

  "They took something from you, didn't they?"

  "The little one. The black kitten... He was sent."

  My pen slipped from my fingers.

  "What did you say?"

  "There's a place... beyond the veil. You'll find the door... eventually. But the boy—he's already been changed."

  He was trembling now, his breathing shallow.

  "You don't have much time..."

  Then, just like that—he passed out.

  I panicked, tried to rouse him. But he just pushed my hand away. Then, he turned away and curled up like someone refusing to wake up from a dream.

  We ran the usual workup. Monitored him closely.

  I got very little information out of our conversation for a proper diagnosis.

  His signs and symptoms did not suggest infection or stroke. No fever. No weakness. No facial asymmetry.

  Vital signs. Blood investigations. Imagings. All normal.

  Was he a drug addict? Urine toxicology was unremarkable.

  A psychotic episode? Could he be schizophrenic?

  I could not come to a final diagnosis.

  ?━━━━━???━━━━━?

  A few hours later, he woke up and made a yawn.

  Strangely, he was completely lucid—calm, oriented, cooperative.

  And he remembered nothing. Not the portal. Not the veil. Not Momo. Not even checking into the hospital.

  "I'm sorry, Doc," he said, puzzled. "You sure I said all that? Sounds like something out of a dream."

  I nodded slowly, writing my notes with a heavy hand.

  "Yeah," I murmured, "must be..."

  We discharged him after observation and reassurance.

  My mind was still boggling with different explanations for his lunatic words.

  What he said...

  Couldn't be real, right?

  ?━━━━━???━━━━━?

  Finally, my shift ended at 10 p.m. I was stretched thin, hollowed out by hours of exhaustion. Dealing with strangers. Constant adrenaline rush. Making decisions in split seconds.

  Medicine was fun when I was a student.

  "Why did I choose this profession again?" I muttered in a raspy voice. "People aren't my strong suit."

  I dragged my feet to the car park.

  Then—

  "Come."

  "To."

  "Ilythar."

  I froze.

  "Who—?"

  I spun around. No one.

  "..."

  "...I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear anything."

  I bolted to my car.

  I thought I was either hallucinating or being tailed by a ghost.

  ?━━━━━???━━━━━?

  Back at my apartment, I collapsed on the floor in my scrubs.

  Too tired to shower. Too dirty for the bed.

  I stared at the ceiling and studied its pattern. It looked like crescents, overlapping each other.

  One blink. They shifted into full moons.

  Another blink. Crescents again.

  I rubbed my eyes.

  My eyes got hazy.

  And within seconds, I drifted off into sleep.

  ?━━━━━???━━━━━?

  Since that day, I couldn't shake the feeling.

  Not that night.

  Not the next.

  Something had cracked.

  His absence was a gaping hole in my heart.

  And no amount of searching or praying or working could fill it.

  The man's words—they sparked the first flicker of light in me.

  Maybe Momo wasn't missing.

  Maybe he had been taken.

  I had no idea then, but his crazy words would soon be a key.

  A key to a world where Momo might still be alive. Waiting for me.

  And maybe... just maybe...

  I'd find a way to bring him back.

  And if there was a door between us...

  I was ready to break it open.