This story is about a cat named Mishmish, but really it is a story about staying. About the small, ordinary acts of love that hold their shape even when the world outside starts to break. In every age, people have found comfort in the creatures Allah placed beside us. Dogs who guard our gates, horses who carry our burdens, and cats who simply sit close enough to remind us we are not forgotten. Mishmish is unaware of wars or politics, of lines on maps or speeches on the news. She knows the smell of bread in the kitchen, the sound of Noor's laugh, and the strange heaviness in the air before the sky shakes. This is not a grand tale of kings and battles. It is a small story, told from low to the ground. But sometimes, it is the smallest stories that carry the heaviest truths about love, loss, and the mercy that survives even in the rubble. If you have ever been comforted by the weight of a small body beside you, if you have ever whispered your fears into fur and felt them ease just a little, then you already speak Mishmish's language. And perhaps, when you reach the final page, you will see as I did, that even in the loudest, darkest moments, there is still a place for quiet, and still a reason to purr.