Two days later, Dilo had begun to eat on his own and no longer needed to be carried all the time.
His miraculous recovery made Anwen believe even more deeply in one simple truth: with love, anything is possible. She realized she had been wrong, she could not take Dilo away. The young man had held Dilo close, leaving her no chance at all. Over those two days, Anwen observed every little thing he did. He cared for Dilo with his whole heart, with all the love he had. Perhaps there were many kind people in this world, but he was the kindest Anwen had ever met. She had seen many owners sob uncontrollably when their dogs or cats passed away, but she had never met anyone who could be so gentle and protective toward a cat they had never bonded with before. She had never met anyone who would disregard their own safety and rush into a fire to save a cat. Never had she seen anyone hold a cat all night without daring to sleep, without seeming to feel tired at all.
Her world might be small; that was why, within it, he was the very best person.
For these two days, Anwen lingered around his house. And in those two days, no dogs or cats died. Without realizing it, she felt an immense sense of relief.
Staying in his home, she suddenly found a sense of peace she had never known. She watched him paint, watched him play with Dilo and the other dogs and cats. Resting her chin in her hand, Anwen marveled, how could there be someone so kind and so lovable in this world?
Just like that, two days passed, and Anwen still had no intention of leaving. She told herself that although Dilo was recovering, he was not fully well yet. Besides, there were so many dogs and cats here staying was the most reasonable choice. It didn't interfere with her work at all.
On the first day, at noon, he cooked but forgot to turn on the switch; she quietly waited until he turned away and then turned it on for him.
At midday, he pumped water and forgot to turn it off; she helped him flip the switch.
In the afternoon, to catch the breeze, Anwen made the leaves in the garden fall into one spot so he wouldn't have to sweep as much.
She guided dogs and cats who wandered off on their "dates" back home, so he wouldn't worry or have to go searching.
At night, when he forgot to lock the door, she carefully locked it for him even though she wasn't familiar with this kind of latch and struggled for quite a while before managing it.
On the second day, while he was painting, she steadied a jar of paint so it wouldn't spill onto his work.
The most troublesome ones were the dogs and cats. Anwen truly couldn't understand how their owner could be so quiet and reserved, yet they were so mischievous. They chased each other around the house all day without tiring sometimes turning sharply and knocking over a vase, sometimes jumping onto cabinets and shelves and sending things crashing down, sometimes trampling straight through a flowerbed in the garden and flattening it completely. In those moments, Anwen was the one who "put out the fires." She felt like a track athlete or a yoga practitioner because she often had to sprint at full speed just to catch a falling vase or object. She felt even more like a gardener as she restored his garden. Only then did Anwen realize how wonderful it was to be an angel.
She told herself that before she came, he must have been terribly busy dealing with all this chaos.
Anwen didn't know how long she would stay here. A month? Several months? A year? Many years? She didn't know if she was thinking too far ahead but perhaps it was possible. At least, that was what she told herself.
...
From the day she stayed in this house, wherever the young man went, Anwen followed without leaving his side.
Dilo's wounds healed day by day, until he finally recovered completely. He could run, eat on his own, play by himself, and gradually integrate with the other dogs and cats, sometimes even teasing them. This filled Anwen with warmth and joy.
One day, the young man suddenly got up earlier than usual. Anwen woke up with him. It seemed he had somewhere to go; she saw him preparing and packing his painting tools into a bag. Was he going out to paint?
She wondered until he reminded the dogs and cats to behave and then left the house.
She followed him as always.
They walked along a road from the moment the sky was tinged with pink until sunlight flooded everything. The wind danced through the treetops, then tumbled down onto Anwen and the young man, tousling their hair. And so it went, until he stopped in front of a house.
It was a small house, painted blue, with pink bougainvillea drooping from the roof. Beside it hung a sign: Rainbow Painting Class.
Anwen was astonished, he even ran an art class?
Just then, she heard him open the door and step inside. Anwen followed.
The interior was simply arranged. The walls were covered with paintings that looked like children's work, simple, clumsy lines. The classroom held plenty of paper, paints, and pencils. The young man tidied up for a while, while Anwen wandered around, examining everything. Though the room wasn't large, she treated it with the care of someone visiting an exhibition. She studied each painting childish and naive as they were, she could still see their meaning.
There were paintings of a young man with dogs and cats.Paintings of a house filled with dogs and cats at play.Paintings of a young man standing among children.
She examined each piece intently, until a voice suddenly called out,"Teacher!"
Anwen startled back to herself and instinctively looked toward the sound. A group of children, his students, came pouring in and stood neatly with their hands folded.
"Good morning, teacher!"
Their voices rang out together, utterly adorable.
The young man smiled, stepped forward, and crouched in front of them, asking gently,"How have you been? Have you behaved at home while I was away? Have you been practicing your drawing?"
"Yes!" the children chirped."I have something to tell you!""I practiced really hard, look, teacher!"
Anwen was swept up in their laughter and chatter. She looked at him and the children and suddenly froze, then realized her lips had curved into a smile without her noticing. Warmth and gentleness shone in his eyes. Anwen grew absent-minded, forgetting what she had been thinking.
And throughout that lesson, she felt like a student herself, sitting in on his class. She listened closely as he taught the children how to draw, mix colors, and refine their lines. For the first time, she felt not invisible, but present in this life.
Time passed quickly. Before she knew it, the class was over. It was already ten o'clock. The young man dismissed the children, tidied up a bit more, and closed the classroom.
Anwen followed behind him again, the two of them heading home together.
Since entering his life, Anwen felt as if she had stepped into a new realm, a realm of peace and gentleness. She felt that living a calm life, day after day, immersed in quiet kindness, was itself a form of success, a kind of happiness many people out there struggled desperately to obtain. Watching his back, she suddenly felt incredibly happy.
Many emotions were quietly born in Anwen's heart, ones she herself didn't yet understand. They walked on in silence, until a sound suddenly rang out, snapping her back to reality.
"Anyone selling dogs or cats?"
The crackling voice came from an old loudspeaker on a motorbike approaching. At the sound, Anwen froze and turned her head. She saw a man riding slowly along the main road, clearly ready to stop at the slightest call. A cage was tied to the back of his bike. Inside lay two dogs, their eyes dull with sadness, they had just been sold by their owner and were on their way to the slaughterhouse.
Anwen was far too familiar with this sight. In the past, there was hardly a day she didn't encounter such scenes. Yet she was powerless. Looking into the dogs' eyes, her heart ached.
She stood there in a daze until a voice suddenly rang out:"Hey, sir."
It was him, his voice. Anwen turned to see him waving to the dog buyer. The man stopped and asked,"You got dogs or cats to sell?"
"No," the young man replied. "I want to buy those two dogs."
Anwen had already guessed it the moment he called out. She stepped closer and heard the man say,"You want to buy them back? Five hundred each. Take it or leave it."
The man's tone was dismissive and unfriendly. Anwen was shocked, then anger flared across her face. If she weren't invisible, she would have argued with him on the spot. She knew these buyers sold animals to slaughterhouses for profit, and when someone tried to rescue them, they exploited that compassion to raise the price. Anwen was furious.
She turned to look at him, hoping he would argue back at least bargain a little. Lives were precious, but they couldn't let profiteers exploit that to make dirty money. Yet to her astonishment, the young man remained calm. He simply took out the money and paid.
Anwen was utterly stunned. How could someone be so kind so kind as to be openly taken advantage of? Watching the man pocket the money with a smug expression, Anwen seethed, wishing she could snatch it back and scold him to his face.
But she couldn't.
The young man picked up the two dogs and carried them home. Anwen followed behind, sighing over and over.
How could there be someone so good in this world?
...
There was one thing Anwen hadn't expected, she would stay here far longer than she thought.
One morning, as the young man hung out the laundry, Anwen nudged the sun a little, letting it shine directly where he needed it. The sky was high and beautiful that day, sunny with a gentle breeze. Anwen decided to lie down in the back garden and take a nap. There were flowers, grass, the cool shade of crape myrtle trees, and birds singing.
She felt she truly knew how to enjoy life.
She didn't know how long she slept until the cold woke her. She shivered awake and saw that the sky's colors had changed.
The sunshine had been replaced by a dull gray; heavy clouds covered the blue sky. Cold winds gusted violently, birds scattering for shelter signs of an approaching storm.
Anwen looked at the clothes struggling on the line and panicked. If it rained like this, they would all be soaked.
Where was he?
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than large raindrops began to fall. Startled, Anwen jumped up and rushed toward the clothesline.
She didn't know where he was, but that didn't matter now. What mattered was that the laundry would be drenched in moments. The rain grew heavier, and it was clear a downpour was coming. Anwen didn't dare delay. She whispered a small spell; immediately, the clouds above her thinned and drifted aside. All around, rain poured down, yet where Anwen stood, only a few drops fell.
She couldn't stop the rain entirely; that might anger the Rain God and worse, be seen by others. So she let a few drops fall, harmless enough.
Just then, footsteps sounded behind her. She turned to see him running toward her through the rain. Seeing him bareheaded, she panicked, he would get sick like this. She glanced at the sky, thinking her actions were probably too small for the Rain God to notice. She raised her hand and murmured another spell; her palm glowed faintly, and the rain above him suddenly eased. She shielded him until he gathered the clothes and went inside, even shaking some of the water from his clothes.
Then she lowered her hand.
With a loud splash, all the rain that had seemed held back suddenly poured down onto Anwen. Strangely enough, it soaked her through like a drowned rat.
...
That evening, after the rain, the air turned muggy again.
The weather was truly uncomfortable.
Anwen sat on the porch to catch the breeze, one hand propping her chin, the other fanning herself with a paper fan she had folded herself. Her mood was utterly relaxed. She was lost in dreamy thoughts, gazing at the stars, when a sudden voice made her jump.
"So you're here after all!"
Anwen's hair stood on end like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. Her soul, which had been drifting among the treetops, was yanked back in an instant. She stopped fanning and looked toward the voice, only to see a young girl standing on a tree branch, hands on her hips, staring straight at her.