Claws, Coffee, & Claudia

I was lying on my side, my back sinking into the soft mattress, with five warm bodies clinging to me like magnets.

Lucifer had taken over my pillow, as always, one eye half open as if to say you’re just a tenant in this bed, human.

Morticia stretched across my waist with regal weight, her sleek black body heavy, dignified, like she was composing a tragedy in her sleep.

Chanel curled by my feet, fur like silk, purring in that quiet, refined way that felt too elegant for this world.

Nacho, of course, picked the least comfortable spot: smack on my chest, legs sprawled like I was some cheap sofa. His breath was hot, his whiskers brushing my nose again and again.

And Butters… Butters had claimed the space right next to my face, close enough that I could smell his fur faintly sour, like spoiled milk. His head pressed against my cheek, his body shivering with every snore.

A short laugh escaped me. “Really? Out of the whole bed, you all decide to form infantry on top of me?”

Lucifer didn’t move. Morticia let out a low, cold meow that sounded like sarcasm. Chanel just purred louder.

I stared at the ceiling, the reading lamp casting a dim glow.

And the thought returned.

“Dianna. My wife.”

I dragged a hand down my face, rough enough to make Nacho protest with a tiny claw to my chest. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m disturbing your beauty sleep.”

Theo. Damn him. Still able to call me in that voice that froze my heart for half a beat. A voice I had buried deep, convinced it died along with our marriage. But no. It still had the power to shake me.

I scratched Butters’s head. He gave a soft meow and pushed closer to my cheek. “You’re lucky you can’t talk, Butters. Otherwise, I’m sure you’d be calling me sweetheart too.”

My mind wandered back to Claudia. Her stare, her calm threats, delivered like she was reading a grocery list. UrbanNest. Abuelo. Words that dug deep, pressing all the way to the bone.

“I’m trapped,” I muttered. The only ones listening were the cats.

Lucifer cracked an eye, staring at me flatly.

I sighed. “Don’t look at me like that. Like I’m the idiot who should’ve known better. Fine. I’m the idiot. You win.”

Morticia shifted, scratching the sheets lightly with her claws, as if signing her agreement.

I rolled over, sending cats tumbling with little mrrp protests. But no matter how many times I moved, they climbed right back, sticking to me like glue.

“You know what this means, Nacho?” I asked, watching the little tabby lick my hand with single-minded devotion. “It means I have to pretend to be the wife of a man who already destroyed me once. A man who told me I don’t love you like it was a casual goodbye. A man who now… doesn’t even remember throwing me away.”

Nacho purred louder, almost mocking me.

I closed my eyes.

I bit down on my lip until I tasted the faint salt of blood. Butters nudged my face again, demanding strokes. I gave in. The only sane thing I could do tonight.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll think straight.

Maybe.

XXXX

Morning came loud enough to shove me out of sleep. Thin curtains let the sunlight creep in, catching on Morticia’s fur as she shifted at the edge of the bed. Chanel was already meowing at the door, demanding breakfast. Lucifer sat at the headboard, glaring down like a king.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Once. Twice. Three times. I lifted my head, groggy, and reached for it. Message notifications. One name on the screen. Claudia Rodriguez.

“God.” My voice was hoarse.

I opened it. Short. Formal. Cold.

‘Theo asked about you. Come here.’

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding like a tiny hammer. “Asked about me,” I muttered with a bitter laugh. “Lost his mind, or just starting?”

Lucifer yawned wide, flashing sharp teeth. Morticia scraped her claws over the sheets again, reminding me: you don’t get a choice.

I buried my face in my hands. “God, I hate Rodriguez.”

Twenty minutes later, I was showered and heading downstairs while my little monsters were already fed by Arthur, one of Papa’s assistants.

“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Mama stood in the dining room, wrapped in an elegant cream dress, red lipstick flawless even though it was barely eight. She was pouring coffee into a porcelain cup like it was a ritual.

I walked in wearing a simple black dress, a light coat draped over my shoulders, sunglasses perched on my head, and gave Mother a flat look. “If your definition of ‘beautiful’ means I get dragged to a hospital before breakfast, then sure, it’s beautiful.”

Papa sat at the head of the table, navy sweater neat on his shoulders, his face the same as always: calm, warm, almost too patient for this house. He turned and gave me a smile.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Good morning, Papa.” I reached for a piece of toast and bit into it halfheartedly.

Mother turned, eyes sparking. “Hospital?”

I froze for half a second. Stupid. My mouth moved too fast.

“Yes,” I said flatly, looking away. “My ex-mother-in-law invited me. Or… more accurately, dragged me through a text message.”

Mother’s smile spread instantly. “Oh, Dianna,” her tone was pure acceptance speech. “Finally, you understand. This is how it should be. Showing heart. Showing care. I knew there was softness in you, no matter how hard you try to hide it behind that cheap little devil act of yours.”

I peered at her over the edge of my toast. “Ma, whatever softness I had died in the courtroom five years ago.”

She flicked her hand. “Bullshit. You’re my daughter. You’re not made of stone. I know you.”

Papa set his newspaper on the table. “Whatever the reason, at least you’re showing up. That’s already something.”

I snorted. “Don’t start, Pa. I’m not Santa Claus dropping out of the sky with gifts.”

Mama was too busy clapping her hands in delight, her face glowing like a child who’d just been handed a pony. “Jesus, you have to change that dress. I need to pick something proper for you. No more black. People will think you’re showing up to bury Theo alive.”

“Like I said, if that’s the option, I’ll wear a ball gown,” I shot back.

“¡Dios mío!” Mama sat up straighter. “Why was I cursed with a daughter like you?”

Papa chuckled softly, his low voice smoothing the edges. “Because life without Dianna would be far too boring.”

I lifted my coffee cup and narrowed my eyes at him. “See? Papa knows the truth.”