Vito Rooker came back from his evening run. He held a large bag of sausage in his hand.
He spotted me, Sabrina Atherton, sitting on the bed. He tiptoed over quietly and pulled me into his arms from behind. "Honey, look what a surprise I brought you."
I closed my laptop without a word. I turned around and saw the big bag of sausage at once. "That's so much. Did you buy all of this for me?"
I paused for a moment, then gave a smile. "People would think you got these to feed stray dogs."
Vito froze. He forced a smile. "That's not it at all, honey. You're allergic to dog hair, so I never go near any dogs."
It was true. I suffered from a serious dog hair allergy, and Vito knew that better than anyone.
When we first met, Vito knew nothing about my condition. He happily carried a small dog over for me to pet.
I had an acute allergic attack right then and was rushed to the ICU.
When I woke up later, Vito sat lifelessly beside my hospital bed. His eyes were red as he swore to me. "Sabrina, I'm so sorry for what I did. I'll protect you from any danger for every single day I live."
But now, he had forgotten that promise completely.
A sharp ache rose in my chest.
Vito peeled one sausage open and held it gently to my mouth. "Sabrina, you must be hungry. Have a taste."
I turned away and said gently, "Vito, don't keep putting on an act."
I pointed to the shirt he'd worn the previous day—bright golden dog hair clung all over the fabric. "You told me you never touched a dog. Are you saying this hair came from you?"