The Secret of Nyx by Karina Brouwer

Lena always knew before it happened. It was not a voice, not a clear sign, but a feeling-a vague tension in the air, as if the world was holding its breath. Sometimes it was something small, like an unexpected rain shower even before the clouds gathered. Other times it was bigger: a phone call with bad news, an encounter that would change her life.

She didn't talk to anyone about it. People didn't like things they couldn't explain. But the cat knew.

He appeared one evening at the edge of her garden, a black shadow in the twilight. His eyes shone gold in the dim light, and when he looked at her, Lena felt a strange recognition. As if he knew her thoughts before she herself knew what she was thinking.

He came in without invitation, jumping onto her old wooden chair as if he had always sat there. Lena called him Nyx, after the night. He never replied with a meow, only with a silent, probing look that sometimes gave her goosebumps.

From that day on, her intuition changed. It became sharper, clearer, as if Nyx was her guide. Whenever he raised his head abruptly and fixed his eyes on something, Lena knew something was about to happen. When he circled restlessly around her legs, she felt she had to be careful. And when he looked at her long and deep, she knew: watch out, something is coming your way.

One evening she was sitting in her studio, paintbrush in hand, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Nyx was lying on the windowsill, his tail moving slowly, as if sensing something in the night. Lena closed her eyes and listened to the silence. A second later, her phone vibrated. A message. A decision had to be made.

She looked at Nyx. He held her gaze, inscrutable and calm. But somewhere, deep inside, she already knew the answer.

Nyx slowly squeezed his eyes shut, as if confirming her in what she was feeling.

And Lena smiled.