Immediately, a cat ran out from inside the house. Dilo's fur had grown back in sparse tufts now, making him look like a little lump of fireplace ash. Yet the cat was not unfamiliar with Anwen at all, when she held out her hand, he leaped up at once and settled neatly into her arms.
Anwen gently stroked Dilo.
"You look much healthier now. Rowan has taken such good care of you."
Even without words, Anwen knew exactly how much Rowan cared for his dogs and cats. If it were her, if she had to be away for so long and leave them at home, she would worry too. Worry terribly, in fact. They were like children: Would someone take them away? Would they wander off and get shot by some hunter, then slaughtered? Would they get lost and forget the way home? Would they break something and get hurt with no one there to save them?
Thankfully, the dogs and cats were all fine.
Anwen looked around the house and saw that everything was still tidy—until her gaze suddenly landed on a strange figure sprawled out on the gourd trellis.
That… was the stray cat.
As if sensing her stare, the cat stretched lazily, turned to look at her, then got up and strolled into the house.
As though this were its home all along.
Its presence here startled Anwen.
She instinctively turned to the dogs and cats around her and asked,
"Uh… when did that black cat start coming here?"
Listening to them, she learned that the cat had shown up about a month ago.
A month ago, around the time Rowan had been hospitalized.
Just then, one of the dogs spoke up and told Anwen that the cat had said Rowan asked him to come live here.
Ah... clever little thing.
But then again, this house was probably meant to be a shared home for dogs and cats anyway and that was exactly what Rowan wanted.
After thinking for a moment, Anwen stepped inside, opened the front door, and saw the cat eating. She walked over and gently patted its head. It did not shy away.
"This will be your home… well, I suppose that's only natural, isn't it? Then I'll give you a name. Lumie... 'hope' in English…"
At that moment, Anwen's silent wish rose within her: that Rowan would recover. Or perhaps more simply, if the day ever came when he had to leave this world, she hoped he would always be happy and free from pain, no longer tormented by that cruel tumor or the relentless chemotherapy.
After that, Anwen tidied the house a bit and poured out fresh food for them. She spent time trimming the dogs' fur and bathing them as well.
Since dogs and cats were prone to mange in this season, she took extra care. She rolled up her sleeves, but in the end, the animals splashed her completely soaked.
Fortunately, she was an ange, she did not feel cold.
She also used a bit of magic to warm the air inside the house so the dogs and cats wouldn't get sick.
When everything was done, she trimmed and brushed away their excess fur.
Only then did Anwen speak:
"Your owner won't be able to come home for a while. He's sick right now and has to stay in the hospital. But he'll be back soon. Don't worry. Just behave yourselves, stay at home, and don't make him worry, then he'll get better faster."
The dogs and cats leaned against Anwen, their eyes sad and shimmering with tears. One dog suddenly placed a paw on her hand and asked when she would come back to visit them again.
Anwen replied,
"I'll come see you every day from now on, okay?"
The dogs and cats were overjoyed, running circles around her.
They continued chatting. The animals told Anwen about Rowan's preferences, what he liked to do in his spare time, what foods he enjoyed, the colors he loved. Anwen found herself memorizing everything without realizing it: he liked sky blue, liked eating white radish, and liked painting landscapes when he had time.
The dogs and cats quickly grew close to Anwen. They even asked what she liked and complimented her on being beautiful. Anwen laughed so hard it felt like a farmer celebrating a bountiful harvest. Then she grew curious about their past, how they had come to Rowan.
One dog said it and its siblings had been abandoned in a cardboard box, and Rowan had taken them in.
A cat said it had been put up for sale because its mother gave birth to too many kittens, and the owner couldn't raise them all, if no one bought it, it would be thrown away. Rowan bought it instead.
Another dog said Rowan had bought him on the way to a slaughterhouse, paying a very high price.
No matter how they had come to him, their presence by his side was precious. Most importantly, they were now living in his love.
But if one day he were gone… what would become of them?
Anwen knew Rowan would arrange things properly but still, she worried deeply.
She sighed softly. Seeing that evening was approaching, she stood up, carefully locked the door, and bade farewell to the dogs and cats before returning to the hospital.
"Stay inside, don't run around, and don't eat anything strangers give you," she reminded them again before leaving.
They sat by the door, watching her go, tails gently wagging, eyes filled with sadness. It made Anwen reluctant to leave at all. But she had to return, Rowan was waiting for her at the hospital.
"The dogs and cats at home are doing well. They're very obedient," she told him.
She almost saw Rowan visibly relax after hearing that.
...
Time slipped by, and winter gradually passed. Rowan's chemotherapy sessions increased steadily. This was a period Anwen knew she would never forget days when the two of them supported each other in the oncology ward, regardless of the bitter cold or late nights.
There were times when he fainted at his easel without realizing it, leaving Anwen feeling utterly helpless, unsure of how to help him. There were months when the chemicals caused severe side effects rashes all over his body, unbearable itching he wasn't allowed to scratch.
Anwen knew all cancer patients suffered alike. She also felt fortunate to be an angel, she never tired and could care for him day and night. Watching other cancer patients and their families, she truly felt for them. Patients battled the disease with pain and exhaustion, while their families endured mental torment, their health declining, faces pale from sleeplessness and worry.
For some, the route between hospital and home had become painfully familiar. They worked while caregiving, stole brief moments of sleep, and before they could even imagine happiness, the alarm clock rang again.
That day, while accompanying Rowan to radiation therapy and follow-up tests, Anwen noticed an elderly couple sitting across from her. Both looked worn and exhausted. The woman had lost all her hair and was extremely thin, no matter how many layers she wore, her frailty was unmistakable. Her skin was darkened, her cheekbones protruding. Anwen didn't know what kind of cancer she had, but her suffering was painfully clear.
The man beside her was also thin and small. He held milk and snacks in his hands, as though afraid she might get hungry. Seeing her like that, he gently placed her hand on his thigh.
"Lean on me and rest for a bit. I'll wake you when the doctor calls."
The woman lay down and closed her eyes.
The scene was beautiful and unbearably sad.
Hospitals were places of sorrow, yet also places of profound love.
Anwen was deeply moved, admiring their bond.
Just then, a voice sounded beside her:
"Are you tired? If you are, lean on my shoulder and rest. I feel okay today, I can be your support."
Anwen gently shook her head.
"No. I'm not tired."
…
Time passed quickly. December was already half over. During this time, besides staying at the hospital with Rowan, Anwen went to his house every day to look after the dogs and cats.
One afternoon, as usual, she returned from feeding and spending time with them, only to be surprised to see Rowan sitting on his bed talking to a little girl.
When he saw Anwen, he smiled at her and said to the girl,
"Say hello. This is Liora, the newest member of our room."
Anwen was briefly surprised, she hadn't expected such a young patient. Liora looked about six or seven years old, with clear eyes and a lovely face. She turned to Anwen and politely clasped her hands.
"Hello, big sister."
Anwen smiled back.
"Hello."
Just then, Liora suddenly looked past Anwen and cried out,
"Mom!"
She jumped off the bed and ran forward. Anwen and Rowan turned to see her throw herself into the arms of an older woman weathered, plainly dressed.
That was Liora's mother.
...
That night, as usual, Anwen waited until Rowan fell asleep before leaving. She stepped outside, intending to turn invisible and return briefly to heaven but as she exited the Internal Medicine Ward II, she noticed a lone, thin figure sitting on a bench in the corridor.
Squinting under the dim ceiling lights, Anwen recognized her, it was Liora's mother.
So late, why was she sitting here?
Anwen didn't know what compelled her, but she changed direction and walked toward the woman. Perhaps it was the heavy sorrow pressing down on her back that made Anwen unable to leave.
As she drew closer, Anwen heard quiet sobbing. The woman held a crumpled tissue, lifting it now and then to wipe her tears.
She was crying.
Anwen stopped in front of her and asked softly,
"It's very late. Why aren't you resting?"
The woman startled, looked up, and hurriedly wiped her face, tucking stray hair behind her ear.
"I couldn't sleep. Are you on night duty?"
"Yes," Anwen replied, sitting beside her. "Where are you from?"
"I'm from Nghe An."
"I see…"
Anwen fell briefly silent. Seeing the woman unable to sleep, Anwen could guess why. Remembering Liora's clear face that afternoon, her heart ached. She chose her words carefully and said gently,
"It's cold at night. You should rest. You need your strength to fight this long battle with your child."
Anwen didn't know how to properly comfort her and perhaps she shouldn't. Anyone in such circumstances likely knew what they had to do; they simply couldn't yet overcome the shock and despair. What Anwen could offer now… was perhaps just a presence, a reminder that she wasn't alone.
Silence followed. Neither of them moved. The hospital was so quiet it felt as though even a stopped heartbeat would go unnoticed. Souls being led away, lives slowly draining everything was mute.
Anwen felt helpless. She wished sorrow were something tangible something she could break apart and share.
Gently, Anwen placed her hand over the woman's and tried to distract her.
"How old is Liora now? She really looks like you especially her eyes."
"She's seven."
"She looks like an angel. Are you here alone?"
"My husband's coming later. He's settling things back home."
"I see… what do you do for work?"
"We take whatever jobs we can."
"I understand…"
The woman kept her head down. Anwen searched for more to say until, after a long silence, the woman choked out:
"If a child has blood cancer… can they live long?"
Anwen's throat tightened. No words would come. Her heart sank painfully.
A mother asking such a question, Anwen felt as though salt had been rubbed into her soul.