I had a dog that brought me back to life after betrayal.
I was happy with Emily. My wife Emily and I married for love, despite all the obstacles. Our parents opposed our union—her family was not well-off, and mine wasn’t exactly affluent either, but we had love. The only ones who stood by us were our friends.
Initially, we faced tough times. We couldn’t rent an apartment because we were students without a stable income. We stayed with friends—one month with some, then another with others. We worked as best as we could, saving every penny.
When we finally received our first paychecks, we rented a tiny loft. It was cold during winter, the roof leaked, but it felt like a palace to us. Because we were together, and we believed we needed nothing else.
Over time, we got on our feet, graduated from university, found good jobs, bought a spacious flat, and a car. Our daughter was born. We tried to give her the best, and when she grew up, we sent her abroad for her studies. She quickly adapted to her new life, and everything was going well for her.
I thought everything was great between Emily and me.
I was wrong.
The betrayal I never expected. When she said she was leaving, I couldn’t believe it.
I thought it must be a cruel joke, a test of my love to see how I would react.
But no.
She silently packed her things, changed clothes, retrieved a suitcase from the cupboard where we once stored Christmas decorations, and headed for the door.
“I’m sorry,” was all she said.
I watched as she stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind her… and at that moment, my life crumbled.
The pain tearing me apart. The next day, I couldn’t even get out of bed. I called work, lied about being sick, and lay there for a whole week.
I clutched Emily’s pillow, inhaling her scent, hoping that if I held on to the past long enough, it wouldn’t disappear.
But it did.
I stopped eating and became oblivious to what was happening around me.
The only living creature that continued to believe in me was my dog, Max.
He wouldn’t let me give up. Max wandered around the flat, looking at me with his big eyes, nudging me with his paw. He was waiting for me to rise, for us to go for a walk as we always did.
For the first time in my life, I stepped outside in an old tracksuit, unshaven, in complete disarray.
When we returned home, I got right back into bed.
And then something I never expected happened.
Max stopped eating.
I placed his bowl in front of him, and instead, he lay beside me, gazing at me with warmth in his eyes.
He wouldn’t even go out for a walk.
In that moment, I realized he wasn’t just sad—he was showing me I needed to pull myself together.
As if he were saying, “You can’t just give up.”
I forced myself to head to the bathroom for a shower. Once I emerged, Max walked to his bowl and started to eat.
He had been waiting for me to make the first move.
Thus began my journey back to life.
A fate orchestrated by a dog. I kept working, filling my days with tasks to distract myself from my thoughts.
But in the evenings, when the flat became too quiet, loneliness would wash over me.
Max noticed this. He would lie by my bed, resting his head under my hand, as if reminding me, “You are not alone.”
Months passed. One day, while walking him in the park, I loosened the leash, and he suddenly bolted.
I panicked and ran after him.
Then I saw him stop in front of a stranger—a man about my age, with another dog. Max calmly sat beside him, and the man, smiling, patted him on the head.
I halted, breathing heavily.
“What a lovely dog,” the stranger remarked. “I’ve seen him here before, but I’m only just meeting his owner now.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
That’s how I met Oliver. Or rather, how Max introduced us.
Initially, we only crossed paths during walks.
Then we started sharing coffee.
Before long, 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 tossed it in the bin.
For the first time in a long while, I felt like I could truly breathe.
Now Oliver and I are together, but we are in no rush—we live at our own pace, cherishing moments as they come.
But I know one thing: without Max, I would have remained lost in that darkness that engulfed me after the betrayal.
My friend, my loyal dog, showed me that life goes on.
And perhaps the best is yet to come.
