It was a warm, dry, sunny September. The low autumn sun glared into Roman’s eyes, especially in the evening. He lowered the sun visor—tall as he was, it shielded him, but Daisy…
How many times had he told her to leave the car at home? He’d drive her to work, pick her up after. Problem was, their work schedules never quite matched.
*”It’s sweet you worry, but I drive carefully—you’ve said so yourself. I can’t manage without the car,”* Daisy would say, nuzzling against him.
*”Fine, but at least promise to wear sunglasses. Rain’s coming next week, and that’s no better—puddles, slippery roads. Either way, it’s risky.”*
*”You’re such a worrier. It’ll be fine. I promise,”* she’d vowed solemnly.
Roman parked outside their flat and glanced up at the third-floor windows out of habit. Sunlight bounced off the glass—hard to tell if the blinds were down. If not, the place would be an oven by now.
Daisy’s car wasn’t there. Odd—she usually beat him home by an hour, dinner ready. No call, no text either. Roman checked his phone just in case. Nothing. He pocketed it, locked the car, and headed inside.
***
They’d met a year and a half ago. Roman was driving home when he spotted a car pulled over, door hanging open, and a slight, flustered woman beside it. Flat tyre. He stopped to help. They started dating soon after.
Daisy had been renting a place—petite, proud, fiercely independent. With her, Roman felt strong, protective. She hated that, insisting she could handle herself. Eventually, he asked her to move in. Why waste money on rent when she was always at his?
His bachelor pad transformed under her touch. Throw blankets, colourful cushions, soft lamps—suddenly it felt like a home. The air always smelled of something baked or simmering.
Then one day, she brought home a filthy puppy, shivering under a bush in the rain.
*”Daisy, why? It’s dirty, probably sick,”* Roman grumbled. He’d never been a pet person.
*”Look at him! He’s freezing. I’ll wash him, take him to the vet tomorrow. I’ll clean up after him, promise,”* she pleaded, cradling the shivering mess.
*”You know I don’t like dogs. Leave him at the vet.”*
The look she gave him—he knew if he pushed it, she’d walk out with the pup. And he couldn’t have that. Roman was head over heels. So he gave in.
Daisy named the scrappy little thing Rex. The pup perked up at the sound, ears twitching.
*”See? He loves it!”*
*”Rex!”* Roman called. The dog ignored him, barely flicking an ear.
With regular meals, Rex filled out. Within months, he was a sturdy, rust-coloured mutt—maybe some retriever in there. Roman played with him, but Rex worshipped Daisy, trailing her everywhere, ignoring Roman’s commands. It almost made him jealous.
Life was good—just the three of them. Roman hadn’t thought much about kids. Someday, maybe, but for now, this was enough.
***
Even before unlocking the door, Roman heard Rex whining and scratching. The moment it opened, the dog bolted past him down the stairs.
Roman sighed, locked up, and followed.
*”Easy, mate,”* he muttered as Rex pawed at the building’s entrance.
Usually, Rex waited for the lead. Not tonight. He dashed ahead, stopping to glance back, urging Roman on.
*”Alright, where’re we going?”*
Rex’s ears twitched. Then he took off like a shot.
*”Stop! Bloody hell—where are you going?”*
Roman knew this wasn’t random. Rex only ran like this for Daisy. A creeping dread gripped him as he sprinted to keep up.
They cut through their usual park, then zigzagged between rows of houses. Roman’s lungs burned. Ahead, Rex’s frantic barks led him to a road lined with shattered glass. The dog sniffed the ground, whimpering.
Roman’s stomach dropped. *Why was Daisy here?*
A boy, maybe ten, tinkered behind a fence nearby.
*”Hey, kid—what happened here?”* Roman shouted over Rex’s barking.
*”Crash. Saw the ambulance leave, then a tow truck took the car.”*
*”What colour was it? Red?”*
*”Think so.”*
Roman dialled the hospital, heart pounding.
*”Yes, a call came in… Which one? Right. Thanks.”*
He regretted not leashing Rex. The dog refused to budge. Roman left him, racing back to the car.
By the time he reached the hospital, night had fallen. The doctor’s tired gaze said it all before he spoke.
*”You’re…?”*
*”Her husband.”*
*”I’m sorry. She didn’t make it.”*
Roman’s world shattered. *No. Not Daisy. She never drives this way.* He had to call her—
*”Can I see her?”*
*”Not advisable. Her face is… it’s bad.”*
*”What if it’s not her?”*
*”Her ID matched. Come on.”*
The morgue’s sterile walls closed in. Roman’s legs gave out when he saw her—small, broken, barely recognisable. A guttural howl tore from his throat.
Outside, he slumped against the wall, sobbing.
*”Why her?”*
The doctor lingered. *”No chance. The other driver was blinded by the sun—your wife came round the bend…”*
Roman didn’t remember driving home. Only then did he think of Rex. He returned to the crash site. The dog lay by the roadside, lifting his head weakly as Roman approached.
*”Rex. Home.”*
No reaction.
*”Come on, Daisy’s waiting,”* Roman lied, almost believing it.
The name worked. Rex limped after him, pausing often to look back.
*”Get in the car. Daisy’s waiting. Don’t make me say it again.”*
Rex hesitated but jumped in.
At home, the dog prowled, sniffing, whining. That night, he howled by the door until the neighbour hammered on it.
*”Keep that bloody dog quiet!”*
*”I’ll try,”* Roman muttered.
*”See? You’re upsetting everyone. Suffer quietly, like me.”*
Rex nosed his knee.
*”You get it, don’t you? I’m hurting too, but I’m not howling. Want to leave? Go on, then. Traitor.”*
He yanked the door open. At the last second, he followed to unlock the building’s entrance.
Roman buried himself in funeral arrangements, still half-convinced none of this was real. He drank himself to sleep. Rex’s barking woke him—or maybe he imagined it.
After the funeral, Rex reappeared, skinny and matted. Roman fed him. The dog nibbled, then collapsed by Daisy’s slippers.
By morning, Rex was scratching to go out.
*”Leaving again? What about me?”* Roman opened the door.
The flat screamed Daisy’s absence. He hurled cushions, books, her trinkets—nothing helped. Only now did he realise how much he’d loved her.
*Why didn’t I stop her driving? Why didn’t I propose? A baby would’ve kept her home—*
Nightmares of claws on laminate, Daisy shifting beside him. He’d wake, dress, and wander. One night, his feet carried him to the crash site.
Something rustled. Roman shone his phone light—Rex, emaciated, tail wagging weakly. His ribs barely moved.
Roman lay beside him in the wet grass. He woke chilled to the bone. Rex wasn’t breathing.
*”Lucky you,”* Roman whispered.
He fetched a spade, dragged Rex to the bushes, and dug a shallow grave. Morning traffic ignored the dishevelled man weeping over a dead dog.
Home again, he downed vodka straight, ignoring his protesting stomach. His reflection—bloodshot eyes, dirt-streaked face—felt alien. Someone knocked. He didn’t answer.
Days blurred. That Saturday, he finally stepped out. Grey, drizzling. His car sat rain-speckled. He walked aimlessly, ending up at a near-empty pet market.
A teen clutched a shivering, rain-soaked pup—just like the one Daisy brought home.
*”Buy him, mister. Cheap,”* the kid pleaded. *”Dad’ll drown him if I don’t sell him.”*
*”How much?”*
The boy suddenly hesitated. *”Never mind.”*
*”Why not?”*
*”You don’t want him.”Roman took the trembling pup into his arms, whispered *”Rex,”* and walked home through the rain, feeling the faintest warmth of hope for the first time since Daisy left them.
