Dog That Brought Me Back to Life After Betrayal
I was happy with Emily.
I married my wife Emily for love, despite all the obstacles we faced. Our families disapproved of our union—her family wasn’t well-off, and mine also didn’t have much to brag about, but we had love. The only ones who supported us were our friends.
In the beginning, we struggled. We couldn’t rent an apartment, as we were students without a reliable income. We moved from one friend’s place to another, spending a month here and a month there. We worked wherever we could, saving every penny.
When we finally received our first paychecks, we rented a tiny attic flat. It was cold in winter, and the roof leaked, but to us, it felt like a palace. Because I was with my beloved person, and that was all we needed.
Over time, we found our footing, graduated from university, secured good jobs, bought a spacious apartment, and a car. Our daughter was born. We did our best to give her the best life possible, and when she grew older, we sent her abroad for studies. She adapted quickly to her new life and everything turned out well for her.
I thought everything was perfect for Emily and me.
I was mistaken.
The Betrayal I Never Expected
When she told me she was leaving, I couldn’t believe it.
It felt like a cruel joke, as if she were testing my love, gauging my reaction.
But it was real.
She silently packed her things, changed her clothes, pulled out a suitcase from the cupboard where we once kept Christmas decorations, and walked towards the door.
“I’m sorry,” was all she said.
I stood there watching her step over the threshold, then close the door… at that moment, my world came crashing down.
The Pain That Tore Me Apart
The following day, I couldn’t even get out of bed. I called in sick at work, lied about having an illness, and lay there for an entire week.
I clutched Emily’s pillow, still holding her scent. I breathed it in, hoping that if I clung to the past long enough, it wouldn’t vanish.
But it did vanish.
I stopped eating and became oblivious to everything around me.
The only living being that continued to believe in me was my dog, Max.
He Wouldn’t Let Me Give Up
Max roamed around the apartment, looking into my face, nudging me with his paw. He waited for me to get up, hoping we’d go for our usual walk.
For the first time in my life, I stepped outside in an old tracksuit, unshaven, completely dazed.
When we returned, I crawled back into bed.
Then something unexpected happened.
Max stopped eating.
I would place his food bowl down, and he would just lie beside it, silently gazing at me with his warm eyes.
He even refused to go for walks.
In that moment, I realized: he wasn’t just sad—he was showing me that I needed to pull myself together.
As if trying to say, “You can’t just give up.”
I forced myself to go to the bathroom to shower. As soon as I came out, Max approached his bowl and began to eat.
He was waiting for me to take that first step.
That was the beginning of my return to life.
A Fate Orchestrated by a Dog
I kept working, filling my days with tasks to avoid thinking too much.
But in the evenings, when the apartment grew too quiet, loneliness would wash over me.
Max sensed it. He would lie by my bed, nudging his head beneath my hand, as if to remind me, “You’re not alone.”
Months went by. One day, while taking him for a walk in the park, I loosened his leash, and he suddenly bolted away.
I panicked and chased after him.
That’s when I saw him stop in front of a stranger—a man around my age with another dog. Max calmly sat by him, and the man smiled, patting him on the head.
I halted, out of breath.
“He’s a lovely dog,” the stranger remarked. “I’ve seen him here before. But this is the first time I’m seeing his owner.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
That’s how I met Oliver. Or, more accurately, that’s how Max introduced us.
Initially, we only saw each other during our walks.
Then we began meeting for coffee.
After a while, coffee turned into wine.
Eventually, we realized we didn’t want to be alone any longer.
One Saturday, I gathered everything that reminded me of Emily, packed it in a box, and tossed it in the bin.
And for the first time in ages, I felt like I could breathe again.
Now, Oliver and I are together, taking things slow, living at our own pace, and enjoying the moments.
But I know this: if it weren’t for Max, I would have lingered in that darkness following betrayal.
My friend, my loyal dog, showed me that life goes on.
And perhaps the best is yet to come.
