In the village, life unfolds under the watchful eyes of neighbours. Secrets are hard to keep here, and sooner or later, everything comes to light.
Everyone knew this couple well. They married for loveboth tall, hardworking, and proud of their tidy cottage, rebuilt by their own hands. The garden, free of weeds, bloomed all summer with flowers that took turns in the sun. The wife, always kind, never gossiped. The husband, a quiet man, carried a hardness in his silencenot the gentle kind, but something colder, passed down from his father and grandfather. Yet he never raised a hand to his wife. He did the heavy chores without complaint, drove to town for her dresses, and never drank with the other men. No matter how they coaxed him, hed simply say, “No, thanks,” and that was that.
The women envied hersome bitterly. She tried, at first, to tell them they shouldnt accept beatings, but they brushed her off. “Youre just lucky,” theyd say. Or worse: “Who knows how long your luck will last?” She pitied them but said nothing.
There was just one shadow over their home: four years of marriage, and no children. Both healthy, yet their arms remained empty.
Then one day, a neighbour begged them to take the last of her dogs littera runt, small but sweet. The wife hesitated, unsure if her husband would agree. To her surprise, he did. They named her Doll.
No one could say who doted on her more. The husband taught her tricks, brought her inside when it rained, built her a kennelspacious, with a wooden floor. She learned to sleep there but was free to roam at night, always returning by dawn.
Then Doll grew round with pups.
Something in the husband snapped. He chained her, snarling, “Run off, and dont come back.”
One night, she whelped four blind, squirming things. The husband found them at dawn. He stormed inside, furious. “Dolls turned our yard into a kennel.”
The wifes face lit up. “Four? And she didnt make a sound! Let me see”
“See them before I drown them.”
She froze. “Drown them? Theyre helpless! What about Doll? Do you think she wont care? Ill find homes for them”
But he was already outside, filling a barrel with water. She followed, her heart hammering. He worked in grim silence, hauling buckets from the well. She crouched by the kennel, tears rolling as Doll nuzzled her litter.
She couldnt watch. She fled inside, shut every window, every door.
Later, he returned. “Theyre gone. Blind thingsthey never knew. Buried them at the far end of the garden.”
She whispered, “Does Doll know?”
“Dunno. Shell howl it out. Maybe learn to stay put.”
Something broke inside her then.
Doll howled for days. Then, silent, she began visiting the gardens edgewhere the tiny graves lay.
Twice more, Doll had litters. Twice more, he drowned them. Each time, the wife withdrew further, the warmth between them fading.
Then came the last.
Doll, heavy with pups, waddled awkwardly. Autumn chilled the air, and she barely left her kennel.
One morning, the husband took his shotgun.
An old neighbour, whod given them Doll as a pup, saw him walk to the pond. Saw him shoot hera single crack in the crisp air. The old woman stood frozen, tears streaking her wrinkled cheeks. As he passed, she rasped, “What have you done, lad? Youve taken livesa mother and her unborn. God sees. What if He does the same to your children?”
He glared but said nothing. Her words festered like a thorn.
At home, he braced himself to tell his wife. But she met him with news: “I think Im pregnant.”
Joy swallowed everything else. They rushed to the hospital, confirmed itfive weeks. Hed never been so talkative, so full of plans. Cribs, toys, names. They laughed, resisting the urge to buy everything at once.
A month before the due date, fever struck. Then stillnessno kicks, no rolls. They raced back to hospital.
The doctor met him in the hall. “We saved your wife. The baby was stillborn.”
A boy.
He stumbled outside, blind with grief.
His wife returned hollow-eyed, whispering, “Find a proper wife. Im barren.”
The word stung. “Dont say that!”
But she barely ate, barely moved. The doctor had no answers. Desperate, he visited a wise womanan old crone in the next village, known to lift curses.
Her hut smelled of incense and lavender. Before he could speak, she said, “Your wifes innocent. You took livesneedlessly.”
He stormed out.
Driving home, he passed the old neighbourthe one whod warned him. Her words echoed: *God sees.*
He remembered Dolls eyes, wide with understanding, the moment before he shot her. Just like his wifes eyes now. Empty.
The next day, he went to the cathedral. Confessed to an old woman lighting candles. “How do I atone?”
“Help those in need,” she said. “Theres a dog shelter nearby. Start there.”
He did. For months, he drove vets, delivered supplies. The dogs wagged at the sound of his engine.
Then he met Bonniea one-eared poodle pup, found near the railway tracks. Skinny, scarred, but alive. He nursed her, drove her to vet visits. One evening, he brought her home.
His wife, slumped in her dressing gown, barely looked up.
Bonnie yipped.
The wife turned. “Good Lordwheres her ear?”
Bonnie licked her palm.
That night, the poodle slept on her pillow. By morning, colour had returned to the wifes cheeks.
A month later, she whispered, “Im pregnant.”
This time, it stuck. Twin girlslaughing, bright-eyed miracles.
Now they race through the garden with Bonnie, their laughter weaving into the wind. The pastits harshness, its crueltyhas melted away.
He knows, now, that kindness is the strongest magic of all.
