He’s just like me, abandoned. How can I leave him? – Liana
Liana
The rain had just started when we turned the corner toward home.
Elias was driving, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily between us. I was looking out the window, watching raindrops race each other down the glass.
Then I saw it.
“Stop the car.”
Elias frowned. “What?”
“There. Back up. I think I saw something.”
He sighed, but reversed without arguing. The headlights swept over the side of the street and there, huddled next to a trash bin under a leaky awning, was a tiny black-and-white puppy.
Completely soaked.
Curled in on itself like it had given up.
I unbuckled my seatbelt. “I’m getting out.”
“Liana—”
“He’s shaking. I’ll just check.”
I knelt on the wet pavement, holding my umbrella with one hand, reaching out with the other.
“Hey, baby… are you alone?”
The pup didn’t move at first. Just stared at me with wide, cautious eyes. Its fur was matted and soaked, and it had a tiny cut above one eye.
“You must be freezing.”
I crouched lower, slowly extending my fingers.
“I won’t hurt you. Promise.”
It sniffed my hand. Then, tentatively, licked it.
I scooped him up without hesitation, tucking him into my jacket.
He didn’t even resist. Just buried his face against my chest and sighed.
Elias
She was soaked.
Her hair sticking to her cheeks, that ridiculous floral umbrella barely keeping her dry.
And she was holding a soggy, pathetic ball of fur like it was the most precious thing in the world.
She looked up at me, all eyes and hope.
“We can’t leave him here.”
I stared at the dog. It stared back. Its ears drooped. Its entire body was trembling.
“Liana, we can’t just take in—”
Then the damn thing whimpered.
She hugged it tighter.
I groaned and ran a hand over my face.
“You two. You have the exact same eyes. This isn’t fair.”
I walked back to the car and opened the backseat. “Fine. But he’s sleeping on the floor.”
Liana
We gave him a bath as soon as we got home.
Well. I gave him a bath.
Elias stood in the doorway with a towel, arms crossed like he wasn’t totally in love already.
“You know you’re not keeping him, right?”
“We’ll see,” I said, rinsing shampoo from the pup’s thick fur. “He might be a really good roommate.”
The dog sneezed.
I grinned. “Bless you.”
Elias rolled his eyes. “Don’t name him. That’s how it starts.”
I handed him the towel and lifted the pup out of the tub. “Too late. His name is Miso.”
He blinked. “Like the soup?”
“Like the soup. Warm. Soft. A little salty. Also he looks like a dumpling.”
Miso wagged his tail and licked my chin.
“God help me,” Elias muttered. But he rubbed Miso’s ears dry anyway.
That night, we were all curled up on the couch.
Elias had one arm around me. I had a blanket. Miso was snoring on my feet.
Elias looked down at the dog. “You realize he’s never leaving now.”
“Good,” I whispered, leaning my head on his shoulder.
He kissed my hair.
I looked at our little group and thought:
Maybe this is what a home starts to feel like.
