**Diary Entry – A Change of Heart**
Elizabeth was a creative soul, full of imagination and flair. Everything she touched turned out interesting and beautiful. Kind-hearted, quiet, and modest—yet utterly irreplaceable. She taught at a village primary school, adored by children, parents, and fellow teachers alike. If a colleague fell ill, she’d step in without complaint, even if it meant working a double shift.
“Miss Elizabeth, I don’t understand this problem,” her pupil, Tommy, would say.
“Have you even tried thinking about it?” she’d ask, knowing full well he just wanted to copy someone else’s work. But she’d patiently explain until it finally clicked for him.
“Oh! Turns out it’s easy,” he’d grin.
Elizabeth had grown up in an orphanage before studying at a teachers’ college. Left on the doorstep as a baby, she was given her name by a nurse who fancied it—no family, no roots. Like all orphans, she learned to endure silently. Who was there to complain to?
She never knew parental love but longed for a family of her own. She dreamed of a husband and children, of pouring all her unused affection into them.
Fate, however, had other plans. She married Gregory, a local lorry driver. He’d noticed the young teacher, and she—starved for any scrap of happiness—agreed when he bluntly proposed.
“Elizabeth, I’ve been watching you. You’re a good woman. Marry me. I’m not one for flowers or fancy words—straight to the point. I’m older, but the house is big. Lost my parents early. Needs a proper woman in it.”
Romance? Hardly. But she said yes anyway. A small wedding later, she moved in.
Some warned her. “Elizabeth, think carefully. Gregory’s not for you. You’re artistic, sensitive—he’s just a rough bloke. You’re too different.”
Gregory had always been a loner, gruff but hardworking. He fancied Elizabeth because she was pretty—tall, with long hair braided neatly, greenish eyes, and a quiet nature. Exactly the wife he wanted.
She proved an excellent homemaker, managing everything effortlessly. But Gregory found her quirks baffling—reciting poetry while cleaning, humming songs, knitting little gifts for neighbours. He didn’t understand such whimsy.
Years passed. No children. Elizabeth grew sadder, hanging icons in the corner, whispering prayers. Gregory, though indifferent to faith, let her be.
Then she brought home a stray puppy without asking.
“Greg, he’s just a little thing. Let him stay. Everyone has a guard dog.”
Grudgingly, he agreed. They named her Rosie, and even Gregory grew fond of her—feeding her, fixing her tangled chain.
One day, a neighbour’s dog visited. Gregory came home to see it darting from their yard.
“Rosie’s got a friend. Puppies on the way,” he muttered darkly.
When Rosie’s pregnancy became obvious, he snapped. Elizabeth returned home to find her missing.
“Where’s Rosie?” she demanded.
Gregory’s face twisted. “None of your business. She’s gone. Didn’t need her litter.”
Elizabeth locked herself away, weeping. A week of silence followed. Gregory, uneasy, finally broke it.
“Women—always so sensitive,” he grumbled.
They reconciled. Months later, Elizabeth announced she was expecting. Gregory was overjoyed—until she lost the baby.
Then, something shifted in him. Guilt gnawed at him. He remembered Rosie.
Without telling Elizabeth, he visited a dog shelter, bringing food, staring at the hopeful faces. On his fourth trip, a black pup with a white ear caught his eye.
He drove home, the pup in tow.
Elizabeth gasped. “Who’s this?”
“Bim,” Gregory said gruffly.
She cuddled the squirming pup, tears in her eyes.
Bim grew fast. And soon, Elizabeth was pregnant again.
A year later, their yard was guarded by a big black dog with a white ear. A pram stood by the door. Gregory, grinning, pushed it gently.
Sometimes, repentance comes quietly—in the form of a pup, a second chance, and a heart finally learning to soften.
