Chapter 4: Claws and Consequences

Curious, I poked his warm, soft ear. “Hey, can you really understand human speech?”

He ignored me, of course.

I shrugged, scooped him up, and carried him to the bedroom, pulling him into my arms.

Softer and warmer than Rascal, honestly.

I squinted in delight and snuck a kiss to his ear. The lop-eared rabbit instantly stiffened. I hugged him closer and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of bunnies and pizza.

The next morning, I flipped the comforter and tore my apartment apart.

Eventually, I had to accept it: the lop-eared rabbit had pulled a full Houdini and vanished without a trace.

I sat on the bed, contemplating my life choices.

If I told Toby I’d lost his rabbit, would I survive? Or would I be banned from the clinic forever?

With a do-or-die attitude, I marched back to the animal clinic.

As usual, Toby was the only one inside. It was a slow morning—he was sitting at the front desk, lost in thought, sunlight catching the dust in the air like something out of a lazy indie movie.

When he saw me, he glanced over, then awkwardly turned away.

It’s over. This can’t be good.

“Um… Nice weather today.”

“Feels like skirt season already, hahaha…” I tugged at the hem of my dress, hoping to break the ice.

Silence. The kind that makes you want to crawl under the table.

He finally turned back, his tone flat. “Do you need something?”

I gritted my teeth and put on my best dramatic apology, dropping to one knee like I was proposing. “Sorry, I took your lop-eared rabbit home last night when you weren’t here, but it disappeared this morning. I searched everywhere but couldn’t find it. I swear all the doors were locked. I didn’t mean to lose it. If you want, I’ll buy you another one, okay?”

Oh my god, I’m doomed. I’ll never win him over now.

I closed my eyes, bracing for the worst.

“It’s fine.”

What?

“He came back on his own.”

My jaw dropped. “Impossible! The door handle is so high. Did he do rabbit parkour or something?!”

Toby shot me a look. “Short legs?”

I backpedaled. “No, no, long legs! Pets take after their owners—he must have long legs.”

Only then did he let out a snort.

Seeing him relax, I asked, “So, since your rabbit isn’t lost, I can keep pursuing you, right?”

His face froze, and he stiffly turned his head, like I’d just suggested we rob a bank. “You? Pursue me?”

I pouted. “Isn’t it obvious? I thought I’d made it pretty clear.”

He didn’t answer.

My confidence wobbled.

“Fine, then I won’t bother you anymore…”