“You met her first, so off you go with her,” Oliver told the dog. “I’ll miss you.”
The commuter train slowed to a crawl. Passengers had already queued up by the doors. Outside, the platform flickered past under blindingly bright lights until, with a final shudder, the train stopped. The doors slid open with a hiss, and out poured the crowd, laden with bags and shopping, onto the worn, grubby platform of a small town outside London.
People chatted and stretched stiff legs as they headed for the exit. Oliver was the last to step off. No one waited for him, and he wasn’t in any hurry to return to his lonely rented flat—just a place to sleep.
A few months back, he’d divorced his wife, leaving her and their newborn daughter the flat while he moved somewhere cheaper on the outskirts. He’d met a woman, dated briefly, and they’d parted ways. Then, three months later, she’d turned up on his doorstep with an unmistakable bump and the news. He proposed marriage. Four months later, she had a healthy baby girl.
In tears, she confessed: before him, she’d been with a bloke who’d bolted the second he learned about the pregnancy. Then along came Oliver. She had nowhere to go—couldn’t face returning to her hometown—and he couldn’t stomach kicking her out. So he left instead, filed for divorce.
Now he worked nearly every day, saving for a new place. A mate had roped him into a renovation crew—flats, houses, whatever paid.
Oliver ambled to the dimly lit stairs. At the bottom, a golden retriever sat watching him before glancing back up at the empty platform.
“Looks like no one else is coming. Owner a no-show? Don’t worry, maybe they’ll be on the last train,” Oliver said, walking off.
A few steps later, he glanced back. The dog had climbed the platform, scanning the crowd. The train clattered away, and the dog whined, watching it go before trotting down and stopping in front of Oliver, tilting its head.
“What’s the plan, mate? Waiting for the next one, or coming with me? This is a one-time offer,” Oliver said, turning away without looking back.
The dog hesitated, then followed—first at a distance, then right beside him.
“Lonely, eh? I get that. Who’s your owner? Never seen you around before. Course, I’m new here myself…”
The dog padded along, listening. Soon they reached Oliver’s red-brick four-storey flat. The dog paused at the door.
“Coming in? Make up your mind—I’m starving and knackered.” Oliver held the door ajar as he stepped inside.
The dog padded in slowly, passing him. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?” Oliver chuckled, letting the door swing shut.
In the dimly lit hallway, Oliver teased, “Right, third floor. Sorry, no lift—budget cuts.” The dog bounded ahead, waiting at each landing.
At his door, Oliver fished out his keys. “Home sweet home.” He flicked on the light. “In you go. Second invites cost extra.”
The dog hesitated, then strode in with quiet dignity and sat by the coat rack.
“Polished. I respect that. But if you’re staying, have a look around,” Oliver muttered, shucking off his jacket.
Left alone, the dog pricked its ears at the clatter of dishes and the scent of reheated pasta. Oliver pulled out a second bowl.
“Here. Didn’t plan for guests.” The dog licked it clean, then stared at the sink.
“Worked that out, did you? Never had a dog before,” Oliver admitted, refilling the bowl with water. The dog lapped noisily.
Later, Oliver dozed on the sofa with the telly on. The dog lay at his feet, alert to every rustle.
“Relax, mate,” Oliver yawned, switching it off.
As sleep pulled him under, the dog followed him to the bedroom.
“Right. Sofa-bed deployment. Scoot.” The dog retreated obligingly.
“Where’d you learn manners like that? Wish you could tell me your name.”
In the morning, the dog waited by the door.
“Forgot about you. Know your way out?” Oliver opened it, and the dog bolted downstairs.
After a shower, Oliver made sandwiches, filled the kettle, and slipped on his trainers. The dog sat outside.
“Fancy breakfast?” He nodded inside, and the dog bounded up the stairs ahead of him.
That evening, Oliver stepped off the train last again, wondering if the dog would be there. It was—waiting at the stairs, wagging at the sight of him.
“Owner still AWOL? Or were you waiting for me?” Oliver ruffled its head. “Come on, then.”
Next morning, he crouched before the dog. “Won’t be back tonight—late job. Maybe a few days. See you around.”
Two days later, the platform was empty. “Found its owner, I suppose,” Oliver thought, missing the dog more than he’d expected.
Then, waiting for the morning train, he spotted the retriever beside a young woman.
“Yours?” Oliver asked.
“Why?” she frowned.
“He stayed with me while you were gone. Clever thing.”
She smiled. “Oh, he’s not mine. Adopted me the same way. I’ve been at the hospital with Mum.”
“Ah. What’s his name?”
“Hamlet.”
The train rumbled in.
“Bye, Hamlet.” Oliver sat opposite the woman.
“I’m Oliver. You?”
“Emily.”
“Fate, that—both ‘E’ names. What do you do?”
“Nurse.”
They talked the whole ride. Oliver liked her—easy company. Hamlet had good taste.
Emily explained Hamlet’s elderly owner, a university professor, had passed away suddenly.
“He waited for ages at the station, then picked me. Probably the hospital smell—his owner had heart trouble.”
“Why me, then? I reek of paint and plaster.”
“Maybe he sensed you were lonely too,” she said.
They agreed to meet for the evening train. Oliver rushed from work, heart pounding, and spotted Emily waving.
Hamlet dashed to greet them.
“Who were you waiting for?” Emily scratched his ears. He licked her hand, then nudged Oliver.
“You met her first—go on,” Oliver said. “I’ll miss you.”
“Come, Hamlet,” Emily called. But the dog hesitated, looking between them.
“Pick already,” Oliver joked, half-hoping for loyalty.
Hamlet whined, shifting paws.
“Think he wants us to walk together?” Oliver said, not wanting to part either.
“No, I couldn’t. Hamlet, go with him,” Emily insisted.
“Kidding. Let me walk you home. Pretty sure that’s his plan.”
Emily laughed. “Fine.”
Hamlet bounded ahead, leading them down the quiet street, stopping now and then to check they were following.
“Reckon he chose both of us. Wants us to stick together,” Oliver ventured.
Emily just smiled.
And so fate, in the form of a dog, nudged two lonely people together—refusing to let either go.
That’s how it happens sometimes.
