“You met her first, so stick with her,” Edward told the dog. “I’ll miss you.”
The train slowed, brakes screeching as it eased into the station. Passengers jostled in the aisle, bags slung over shoulders, eager to escape the cramped carriage. Outside, the platform blurred past—people standing under the harsh glow of sodium lights, their faces flickering in the dim evening. A final lurch, and the train stopped. Doors hissed open. The crowd surged onto the worn concrete, scuffed by countless shoes, carrying the scent of damp and cigarette smoke.
Edward stepped off last, his boots heavy on the pavement. No one waited for him. There was no hurry to return to his rented flat—just a place to sleep, not a home.
It had been months since the divorce. He’d left the house to his ex-wife and their newborn daughter, moving out to save money. Then he’d met Emily—brief, casual, over just as quickly. Until she’d turned up three months later with a swelling belly and the news that it was his. He’d offered to marry her. Four months after that, she gave birth to a healthy girl.
Then came the confession. Tears, guilt—she’d been seeing someone else before Edward. A man who’d vanished the moment she told him. Edward had been convenient. She had nowhere else to go, didn’t want to crawl back to her hometown. He couldn’t throw her out. So he’d left instead. Signed the papers.
Now he worked seven days a week, saving for a new place. A mate had roped him into a renovation crew—flats, townhouses, the odd country home. Hard graft, but it paid.
Edward trudged toward the stairs, lit by a flickering lamp. At the bottom, a ginger mutt sat watching him, then glanced back up at the empty platform.
“Looks like no one’s coming. Owner missed his train, eh? Might be on the last one,” Edward muttered, turning away.
A few steps later, he glanced back. The dog had climbed the stairs, scanning the tracks. The departing train rattled into the distance. The dog whined, ears drooping, then trotted down and planted itself in front of Edward, eyes searching his face.
“What’s your plan, mate? Waiting all night, or coming with me? Won’t ask twice.” Edward turned and walked off without looking back.
The dog hesitated, then followed—first lagging behind, then falling into step beside him.
“Lonely, huh? I get it. Whose are you, anyway? Never seen you round here before. Not that I’ve been here long myself…”
The dog stayed close, listening. Together, they reached Edward’s red-brick terrace. At the door, the dog paused.
“Come on in. Make up your mind—I’m starving and knackered.” Edward held the door open just long enough for the dog to slip inside. “Yeah, you’re trouble,” he muttered, letting it swing shut.
The hall was dim, lit by a single bulb.
“Third floor. No lift—you’ll manage,” Edward joked as the dog bounded ahead, waiting on each landing. At the top, Edward fished out his keys.
“Home sweet home.” He flicked on the light. The dog hesitated, then entered with quiet dignity, sitting by the coat rack.
“Proper manners. Respect.” Edward shrugged off his jacket. “But if you’re staying, don’t just sit there. Have a look around.”
The dog lay in the hall, ears twitching at every sound. When the clatter of cutlery and the smell of reheated baked beans reached it, the dog gulped, stood, and padded toward the kitchen.
“Yeah, thought so.” Edward grabbed another bowl, filled it, and set it by the wall.
The dog inhaled the food, licked the bowl clean, then stared at Edward.
“Sorry, that’s it. Didn’t exactly plan for company.” He noticed the dog’s glance at the sink. “Thirsty? Never had a dog before.” He rinsed the bowl and filled it with water. The dog drank noisily, splashing drops everywhere.
Later, Edward slumped on the sofa, TV flickering. The dog curled at his feet, head on its paws, but alert to every noise.
“Relax,” Edward said, turning off the screen.
Yawning, he stood. The dog sprang up.
“Sofa’s a bed. Move over.”
The dog backed off, nails clicking on the floorboards.
“Where’d you learn that?” Edward grinned. “Wish I knew your name.”
Once the sofa was made up, the dog trotted to the hall.
“Hey, you can stay in here,” Edward called, but the dog didn’t return. “Suit yourself.” He switched off the light.
Through the haze of sleep, he heard whining, scratching. Morning light burned his eyes. Another rustle from the hall. Edward staggered up. The dog sat by the door.
“Right. Forgot about you.” Edward opened it. The dog bolted downstairs. By the time Edward reached the landing, the front door had already slammed shut.
After a shower, he slapped together sandwiches, filled the kettle, and pulled on a coat. The dog was waiting outside.
“Come on, then.” Edward nodded toward the door. The dog didn’t hesitate, sprinting inside and waiting at the flat.
This time, it went straight to the kitchen, devouring the sandwiches. They left together, walked to the station side by side.
“Go on. I’ve got work. Don’t wait if you don’t want to.” Edward ruffled the dog’s ears and crossed to the opposite platform.
That evening, he stepped off the train last, wondering if the dog would be there. It was—sitting by the stairs, watching passengers descend. At the sight of Edward, it stood, tail wagging.
“Still no owner? Or were you waiting for me?” Edward scratched its head. “Let’s go.”
The next morning, he crouched in front of the dog.
“Won’t be back tonight. Got things to do. Might be a couple days. See you around, maybe.” He stood, crossing the platform. The dog watched him until he disappeared.
Work ran late—a rush job, overtime. Two days later, Edward dragged himself onto the empty platform. No dog. “Found its owner, then,” he muttered, heading home.
The empty bowl in the kitchen sharpened the ache in his chest. He’d grown used to the clever mutt. That night, he woke to silence. No whining, no claws on wood. He turned over, restless.
The alarm blasted too soon. His body begged for rest, but there was another job. He wasn’t hungry. He washed the dog’s bowl, left it on the counter, gulped water straight from the tap, and trudged to the station.
On the platform, amid the commuters, he spotted the ginger dog beside a woman.
“Is he yours?” Edward asked.
She frowned. “Why?”
“He stayed with me while you were gone. Smart dog. Lucky you.”
She smiled. “He’s not mine. Found me the same way. I’ve been at the hospital with my mum.”
“Oh. What’s his name?”
“Hamlet.”
The train rumbled in. “Bye, Hamlet,” Edward said.
He and the woman—Eleanor—boarded the same carriage.
“I’m Edward. You?”
“Eleanor.”
“Fate, eh? Both starting with ‘E.’ What do you do?” He caught her unimpressed look.
“Nurse.”
They talked all the way into London. Edward liked her more by the minute. Easy company. No wonder the dog chose her. She explained Hamlet’s real owner—an elderly professor—had died suddenly.
“Hamlet kept waiting for him. Then he latched onto me. Maybe the hospital smell. His owner had heart problems.”
“Why’d he pick me? I don’t smell like medicine.”
“Maybe he sensed you were lonely too,” she said softly.
They agreed to meet that evening, ride home together. Edward worked in a daze, impatient for the clock to turn. At the station, he spotted Eleanor and waved. The journey flew.
Hamlet bounded toward them, tail whipping. Eleanor crouched.
“Who were you waiting for?” she asked, stroking his head.
He licked her hand, then nudged Edward.
“You met her first. Stick with her,” Edward said. “I’ll miss you.”
“Come on, Hamlet,” Eleanor called.
The dog didn’t move, gaze darting between them.
“Choose,” Edward said, half-hoping the dog would side with him.
Hamlet whined, paws shifting.
“Maybe he wants us both. Walk you home?” Edward asked.
Eleanor hesitated. “No, Hamlet—go with him.”
“Kidding. Let me walk you. Think that’s what he wants.”
She nodded. “Fine. Come on.”
The dog bounded ahead, leading them down the quiet streets, pausing to check they followed.
“Think he’s picked us both,” Edward ventured.
Eleanor’s smile was shy.
And so fate,They reached her door, the dog sitting between them, and in that silent moment, Edward knew neither of them wanted to walk away.
