I had been blissfully happy with Emily. My wife Emily and I married for love, despite numerous obstacles. Our families disapproved of our union – her family struggled financially, and mine couldn’t boast much luxury either, but we had love. Our only supporters were our friends.
In the beginning, life was challenging. We couldn’t afford to rent a flat since we were students without steady incomes. We moved from one friend’s place to another for months, working wherever we could and saving every penny.
Eventually, we landed our first jobs and rented a tiny attic apartment. It was freezing in winter, and the roof leaked, but it felt like a palace to us. As long as we were together, we believed we needed nothing more.
Over time, we found our footing, graduated from university, secured good jobs, and bought a spacious flat and a car. Our daughter was born. We aimed to give her the best, and when she grew older, we sent her abroad for her studies. She quickly adapted, and her life is flourishing now.
I thought everything was perfect for Emily and me.
I was mistaken.
The betrayal I never expected came when she announced she was leaving. I couldn’t believe it.
I thought it was a cruel joke or a test of my love, a way for her to gauge my reaction.
But no.
Silently, she gathered her belongings, changed clothes, retrieved a suitcase from the cupboard where we once stored our Christmas decorations, and headed for the door.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
I stood there as she crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her… and at that moment, my world crumbled.
The pain tore me apart from within. The next day, I couldn’t even get out of bed. I phoned in sick, spent an entire week under the covers.
I held onto Emily’s pillow, still faintly carrying her scent. I breathed it in, hoping that if I clung to the past long enough, it wouldn’t fade away.
But it did fade.
I stopped eating and became oblivious to everything happening around me.
Yet one living being continued to believe in me – my dog, Max.
He wouldn’t let me give up.
Max wandered through the flat, gazed into my eyes, nudged me with his paw, waiting for me to get up and take him for a walk, just like we used to.
For the first time in my life, I stepped outside in an old tracksuit, unshaven, completely dazed.
When we returned, I climbed back into bed.
And then something I didn’t expect happened.
Max stopped eating.
I placed his bowl in front of him, and he would simply lie beside it, silently looking at me with his warm eyes.
He even refused to go for walks.
At that moment, I realized he wasn’t just sad – he was showing me that I needed to pull myself together.
It was as if he was saying: “You can’t just give up.”
I forced myself to head to the bathroom and take a shower. The moment I emerged, Max trotted over to his bowl and started eating.
He had been waiting for me to take that first step.
Thus began my journey back to life.
The fate orchestrated by a dog.
I kept busy with work, filling my days with tasks to avoid overthinking.
But in the evenings, when the flat grew too quiet, loneliness overwhelmed me.
Max sensed this. He would lie by the bed, resting his head on my hand, almost reminding me: “You’re not alone.”
Months went by. One day, while walking him in the park, I loosened the lead, and he suddenly bolted.
I panicked and ran after him.
Then I saw him stop in front of a stranger – a man of similar age, with another dog. Max calmly sat beside him, and the man smiled and scratched his head.
I halted, breathing heavily.
“Lovely dog,” the stranger said. “I’ve seen him here before. But I’m seeing his owner for the first time.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
That’s how I met Oliver. Or rather, that’s how Max introduced us.
At first, we’d run into each other only during walks.
Then we began sharing coffees.
Eventually, coffee turned into wine.
And then we realized we didn’t want to be alone anymore.
One Saturday, I gathered everything that reminded me of Emily, packed it into a box, and took it out for disposal.
For the first time in ages, I felt like I could truly breathe again.
Now, Oliver and I are together, but we’re in no hurry – we’re living at our own pace, relishing each moment.
But I know one thing: if it weren’t for Max, I would have remained stuck in that darkness I fell into after the betrayal.
My friend, my loyal dog, showed me that life goes on.
And perhaps the best is yet to come.
