He shot up from his chair, eyes wide with horror.
“Susan told me… you got rid of the pup yourself.”
For a moment, the world went quiet. My chest tightened, and I slowly closed my eyes.
Something flickered across his face—realization, regret. He rushed to my side, his hands trembling as he pulled me into his arms.
“Just get better,” he whispered desperately. “We can have pups in the future… I swear we can.”
I turned away, letting his arms fall uselessly around me. His words, his sudden tenderness meant nothing now. They were ashes compared to the fire of his past indifference.
For days, he lingered at my bedside, as though trying to convince himself he had always been this kind of husband. When I winced, he adjusted the bed. When I coughed, he pressed a glass of water into my hands. H
