Sebastian was a magnificent Maine Coon kitten, all silky fur, tufted ears, and an elegant plume of a tail. He had been expensive, a show-quality purebred, because for Tim and Hazel, only purebreds would do.

"He's perfect," Hazel had breathed, running her fingers through his thick fur.

"He'd better be, for the price," Tim had muttered, though he still nodded in approval.

At first, life was good. They bought him a luxury bed, gourmet food, and expensive toys. Hazel loved to show him off, and even Tim would scratch behind his ears occasionally, muttering, "At least you look impressive."

But then, things changed.

The house grew tense. Voices that once laughed now snapped. Hazel cried behind closed doors. Tim stayed out later.

Sebastian didn't understand. He tried to comfort them, brushing against their legs, purring softly, but no one reached down to hold him anymore.

And then, one evening, Hazel packed her suitcase.

Sebastian leapt onto the bed, rubbing his head against her arm, but she barely noticed. When she did, she stroked him absently, her voice thick. "I'm sorry, baby," she whispered. And then she was gone.

Sebastian waited by the door. He watched Tim, wondering when Hazel would come back. But days passed, and her scent faded.

Tim, now alone, barely looked at him.

Then, one morning, Sebastian found himself scooped into his carrier.

"This is ridiculous," Tim muttered as he carried him outside. "I didn't even want a cat. She did."

Sebastian let out a small, confused meow, but Tim didn't respond.

When they stopped, it wasn't at home. It wasn't even the pet shop. The place smelled of too many animals, of cleaning chemicals, of something empty and unfamiliar.

A woman at the counter looked up. "How can I help?"

Tim set the carrier down with a sigh. "I need to surrender my cat."

The woman peered inside. "He's beautiful."

"Yeah, well. I travel too much. I never really wanted him anyway." He shrugged. "She did."

The woman frowned slightly but nodded. "We'll take care of him."

Tim muttered something that sounded like "thanks," then turned on his heel and walked out. He didn't look back.

Sebastian stayed curled in his carrier, too confused to move.

Days passed. People stopped at his enclosure, admiring his long fur and regal posture. "He's gorgeous," they'd say, but they always moved on. Maine Coons were large, and many people wanted kittens, not a breed known for its size and upkeep.

He stopped hoping.

Until one day, a little girl with bright blue eyes stopped in front of his enclosure.

"Mummy, look! He looks sad."

A woman knelt beside her, peering in. "Oh, sweetheart. He does."

The little girl turned to her father. "Can we take him? Please?"

The man hesitated.

"He needs us." The little girl's voice was firm, her tiny hands pressed against the glass.

The woman smiled. "I think we can make room for one more."

The shelter worker beamed as she opened the cage, lifting Sebastian gently. He blinked up at the woman, unsure, but she cradled him close, warm and soft.

The little girl giggled, stroking his ears. "We'll love you forever, Sebastian."

And, for the first time in weeks, he believed it.

As they carried him out into the fresh air, wrapped in love and warmth, he let out a deep, contented purr.

Sebastian was finally home.