“Why must your love come in rations, Mother?” I purred, sprawled in a ribbon of sunlight, watching her cradle the others. “Am I not just as lovely?”

They call this place a palace, and so it is — golden drapes, silken cushions, and the softest light that ever kissed a cat’s fur. My name is Rosella. I am the finest Persian in this house, and perhaps, the loneliest.—in fact my owner, Ara, is the princess of this certain family in Derbyshire. She was spoiled a whole lot by her family— how lucky! My fellow peasants— yes, other cats, might find me greedy and always yearning to be seen, but oh, I can’t help it! Forbid me for only wanting to be loved.

       First off, honey, a noble and reserved Russian blue.

“My dear! What you’re doing is awfully wrong!”

“How could you? You should know better!”

She would say it daily. Oh, how annoying is that!

Others would say she’s the “mother” of all cats in the household. For me, she’s just an intrusive pain. 

      Next, it’s Esther, a British shorthair, golden eyed and observant.

“Everyone! Look at mother! I must say she looks absolutely striking!”

“Guys, guys! The sun is officially out! I can’t wait to enjoy the warmth once mother lets us out!”

Seriously, Esther, we get it. You say this every single day.

     Lola, a Siamese cat, I dare say is very attention seeking. 

“Gosh, why am I so gorgeous? No wonder everyone is envying me.”

Please, be quiet for once Lola. 

      I might find them annoying but deep down, I love them with all my heart— even if they don’t care or love me

I never mean to vex you.

  _________________________

                                                          A tale of quiet rebellions, velvet crowns, and a love rationed too thin

       After tea time, the palace grew oddly silent. The servants left the grand hall, their footsteps fading like quiet whispers against marble. I stretched luxuriously against the extravagant velvet cushion, my foot still warm from the sun's afternoon kiss.

     But despite the calm air, my mood was anything but that.

    My mother, Ara, was perhaps elsewhere, spoiling the others with affection — the peasants as I call them. Honey, the Russian Blue, purred contentedly in her lap. Esther, with her golden eyes gleaming, sat proudly by the fire. And Lola, ever the drama queen, pranced nearby, preening as if the world were her stage.

    I watched from afar, my impatience growing and aching heavily. How dare they not spare me any attention? After all, I am the queen of all the cats in this household!  I rose with grace and padded towards the drawing room where Mother’s presence lingered. “Mother?” I purred, going between her soft, sun kissed legs, brushing my silken tail against her legs. “Why must your gaze wander elsewhere when I am here?” 

    She smiled softly but didn’t lift me into her arms. Instead, she reached for Esther, murmuring with delight, “Look at you, darling. Simply radiant today.” I bristled. My claws curled slightly — only just to remind the others who truly deserve the crown. 

  Because in the palace, after tea time, a queen demands to be noticed and attended to.

   Honey gave me a brief glance, cold and disapproving. “ Rosella, must you always interrupt?” She retorted, her voice like an icicle on porcelain. “Mother is only enjoying a peaceful moment.”

   “Peaceful? I echoed with a bitter laugh. “Perhaps you’ve mistaken it for dullness.”

    Esther tilted her head towards me, listening intently from mother’s lap. “Maybe  you should start earning the affection you yearn for instead of expecting it.” 

   I smiled sweetly at her. “Oh, darling, I don’t earn love—I inspire it.”

Lola pranced past me with a flick of her fluff, purring with a hint of sass.” You don’t inspire love, you inspire drama. “And I inspire beauty and tranquility.”

  Watching her wander off, impatiently, I waited for the right moment. Just a little longer..

  Then—bam! I leapt with precision onto the armrest of the velvet settee, knocking over a small porcelain dish of lemon biscuits. It crashed to the floor in delicate pieces, scattering crumbs like tiny casualties of war.

        Mother jumped up, startled. “Oh, Rosella! Always up to mischief, aren’t you?” 

 Lola managed a giggle under her paw. Esther simply rolled her golden, large eyes. Honey was always ready to scold. Nevertheless, mother was finally looking at me — even for the mess I’ve made, she paid attention to me! 

  Mother bent down to clean up the mess I have made, gathering up all the delicate glass pieces. “Rosella, you should’ve been more careful.” Her tone was gentle but tired

    I stood tall on the settee. “I only wish to be seen.” I spoke,  feeling any bit of regret. 

  Lola, with her perfect elegance, leaped onto the nearby window, looking at me with a mischievous sneer. “Rosella, if you were to stop trying so hard, maybe mother would come to you on her own.” She licked her paws gracefully. 

  I stared at her blankly. Coming from her, it was just like being scolded by my own reflection.

    There, everyone left. 

    My throne felt colder than ever, now feeling like a forgotten relic.

 —————————————————————————————————————————————————

    I remained on the settee well past the golden light gave way to grey. No one spoke for me. No one seemed to notice I hadn't budged.

    My paw, suspended in mid-lick, hung suspended in the air. What was I grooming for, anyway? No one was watching.

   I looked down the corridor that Mother had disappeared into. My ears picked up the sound of her laughter, far away and faint. Stroking Esther's chin or allowing Lola to snuggle into her lap like a curled ribbon of happiness.

   That should have been me.

   And of course it wasn't. It never was.

    I lay my head on the pillow, carefully to avoid creasing my fur, but not actually caring if I did. The silk was chilly this evening. Or maybe I was cooler. 

   Was I actually that awful? I hadn't attempted to be. I just  believed love was something you had to grasp. That the louder you shouted for it, the more likely you were to receive it.

   But I demanded and demanded and shattered and pushed—and now here I was. Alone, like an unwanted crown.

   And still… Even with this knowledge, I didn't know how to be anything else. How do you stop demanding when you've never learned how to just be given?

   They all did it so easily—Honey with her poise, Esther with her charm, Lola with her mad beauty. I had none of that. Only this gnawing, this relentless hunger that turned everything I did into little messes.

  I curled up and closed my eyes.

  I never meant to vex you, I said to myself.

   I  just didn’t know how else to ask for a place in your heart.

_______________________________________________________

     The palace darkened into a silence as the night fell, its gilt border now stippled in pale gray.

   No laughter echoed. No paws rustled. Only the soft tick of a far-off clock and the whisper of silks drying on the wind.

   I stood stock-still where I was, unmoving, though the velvet underneath me was no longer warm. I didn't even twitch an ear when Honey passed by with her usual silence or when Esther whispered something to Lola that left them both cuddled over with laughter.

  They hadn't noticed me.

   Or maybe they had—and chose not to remark upon it.

  I sank deeper into the cushion, eyes fixed on the black doorway Mother had vanished through.

   Did she know how much I ached?

   Did she care at all?

   I needed to blame her. I needed to blame them all. But under the jealousies and hunger, there was only the gentlest pain, curled up like a kitten in my heart.

   Maybe. maybe I had gone too far.

   But what is a creature to do when she's constructed of desire? When each strand of her fur trembles to be seen?

    I closed my eyes, but not to sleep. Only to hide the glassiness there.

    Tomorrow, I'll be different, I told myself.

   Tomorrow, I won't leap.

   Tomorrow, I won't demand it.

   Tomorrow, I'll wait, even if it pains me.

 ——————————————————————————————————————————————————

     “Why must your love come in rations, Mother?” I whispered again—not as a question, but as a memory. A plea I hadn’t stopped making.