Late that afternoon, a vet named Ravi entered a nearby observation chamber. He placed a stethoscope against the glass, just to listen. Meera purred. A long, rolling sound that vibrated through the walls. “She’s happy,” he whispered. “This isn’t just survival. This is joy.”
Jamie visited again the next day, then the next. Nibbles would always run toward the glass, press his little paws against it, and bark twice. Meera followed closely, watching Jamie with calm, steady eyes. Not threatening. Not territorial. Almost like she understood—this boy mattered.
Asha crouched beside Jamie. “You miss him?” Jamie nodded. “But maybe he belongs there now.” Asha smiled. “Want to visit him up close?” Jamie’s eyes widened. “Really?” She nodded. “We’ll be careful. I think Meera will allow it.”
The next morning, under supervision, Jamie entered a small enclosure beside Meera’s habitat. Nibbles rushed to greet him, tail wagging wildly. Jamie scooped him up, laughing through tears. Meera stood nearby, still and watchful. “She’s letting you borrow him,” Asha whispered. “Just for a bit.”