The ceremony reaches its peak, and the groom drops his bride, strolling off with another.
The flat is narrow, its wallpaper peeling in a tiny floral pattern. The air smells of an old iron and cats drifting in from the hallway. Emily perches on the edge of the single bed, pulling at her shoesher feet ache after a grueling shift. Today the clinic receives a husky with a deep cut. The lads from the neighbouring village explain, He got into a fight near the abandoned house. Emily doesnt ask for details; the only thing that matters is that the dog is saved.
She slips off her coat, hangs it on a nail, pulls back the curtain that hides her tiny kitchen nook: a kettle, a tin of buckwheat, and a cracked mug. From the wall behind, the neighbours in the third flat fling profanity at each other, but Emily has long stopped listening. She turns on the radioRetro Radiobrews a cuppa and settles on the windowsill, staring at the yellow pane opposite. Its an ordinary evening, one of many, just like the hundreds that have come before.
Dust, old iron, and cat musk fill the room while a late80s love song drifts from the speaker. The buckwheat slowly cools in the mug. Emily watches the opposite window; someone appears to have just arrived homeshed a coat, hung a jacket, sat down at a table. A solitary figure, perhaps as alone as she feels, though probably not in a council block.
She runs a finger over the cold glass and smirks. The day has been strange. First, a wounded dog. Then, him.
He arrives near lunch, cradling the bloodstained husky, looking oddly composed. No hat, a light trench coat, glasses fogged. The waiting area bustlespeople fidget, mutter, grow angry. Emilys attention snaps to him, not because hes handsome but because he stays calm. He steps forward as if he knows exactly what to do.
Do you have a surgeon on call? he asks, looking straight at her. Shes still alive.
Emily doesnt answer, just nods and leads him toward the operating theatre. Gloves, scalpel, blood. He holds the dogs ears while she sutures the wound; he never flinches.
After the operation he follows her into the corridor. The dog lies under an IV drip. James extends his hand.
James.
Emily.
You saved her.
We did, she corrects.
He offers a faint smile, his gaze softening.
Your hands didnt shake.
Its a habit, she shrugs.
He lingers at the door, about to say more, then hands her a slip of paper with a numberjust in case. Emily tucks it into her pocket and forgets it until evening.
Later she pulls the slip from beside her keys. The number is written neatly in blue ink: James. She doesnt yet know it will spark something larger. A warm feeling spreads inside her, first like hot tea, then like spring arriving.
She never writes the number down; the paper rests on the tables edge, almost lost among other notes while she washes dishes. She glances at it and thinks, Strange, if he called. Then, He wont. Guys like that never call.
The next morning she arrives ten minutes late to work; the reception already holds a irate elderly lady with a pug and a hooded boy. A routine shift: injuries, fleas, bites, rashes. By lunch her back still protests.
At three oclock he returnsno dog this time, two coffees in hand and a bag of pastries. He stands at the doorway, shyly smiling like a schoolboy.
May I?
Emily wipes her hands on her coat and nods, surprised.
You have no excuse now
I do. Thanks for saying so. And would you like to walk after work? If youre not too tired.
He doesnt pressure, doesnt rushjust asks and steps back, leaving her a little lighter.
She agrees. At first they walk only to the bus stop, then through the park. He walks beside her, explains how he found the dog, why he chose their clinic, where he lives. He talks plainly, without show. His coat is clearly expensive, his watch certainly not cheap.
What do you do? she asks when they reach the pond.
I work in IT. Honestly, its boringcodes, systems, projectors, holograms he chuckles. Id love a job like yours. Something real, dirty, alive.
Emily laughsfor the first time that day.
He doesnt kiss her goodbye. He simply takes her hand, gives it a gentle squeeze.
Two days later he returns with a leashthe dog is discharged. That marks the true beginning.
For the next two weeks he appears almost daily: brings coffee, picks up the dog, or just says, I missed you. Emily initially keeps her distance, laughs too loudly, answers too formally. Gradually she relaxes. He becomes part of her lifea warm extra shift, not a tiring one but a comforting blanket on a cold night.
She notices the flat getting cleaner, her breakfasts no longer skipped. Even the senior on the floor above comments one day, Emily, you look fresher now, and smiles without her usual sharp edge.
One evening, as Emily prepares to leave, he waits at the entrance in a dark coat, a thermos and a contented grin.
Im stealing youfor good, he says.
Im exhausted.
Especially so.
He leads her to his carconfident but not forceful. Inside the scent of citrus and cinnamon fills the air.
Where are we going?
Do you love stars?
What do you mean?
The real night sky. No lights, no city smog.
They drive about forty minutes. Outside the city the road turns black as ink, only the headlights cutting the darkness. A old firewatch tower stands in a field. He climbs first, then helps her up.
At the top the air is cold and quiet. Above them the Milky Way spreads, occasional planes, slow clouds drifting. He pours tea from the thermos, no sugarjust as she likes.
Im not a romantic, he admits. I just thought, after all the pain and shouting you hear every day, you need to breathe.
Emily stays silent, feeling a strange crack in her bones stitch itself togetherpainful, but right.
What if Im scared? she asks suddenly.
I am, too, he answers simply.
She looks at him, and for the first time without doubt thinks, Maybe it isnt all for nothing.
A little over a month passes. He doesnt take her to fancy restaurants or give her rings. He simply shows up, drives her to the market on weekends, waits after her shifts, helps carry dog food. Once he even stays while she assists in surgery, then asks, If you werent a vet, what would you have been? and listens, as if her answer matters.
Emily still lives in her flat, handwashes her laundry, rises at 6:40am. New details appear: his sweater on her hook, his key on the shared pegboard, coffee on the stovethe one she never bought before. She now turns at every hallway rustle hoping hes arrived.
When the clinics heating fails one day, Emily, accustomed to the chill, watches James arrive early with a portable heater.
This old fridge you have, he says, placing the heater against the wall. I dont want you catching a cold.
Im not fragile, she replies, turning the heater on.
He lingers by the door, wanting to say more but stopping. He hands her a slip of paper with a numberjust in case. Emily slips it into her pocket and forgets it until later that night.
She pulls the paper from beside the keys; the blue ink reads: James. She hasnt yet realized its the start of something bigger. A strange warmth spreads inside her, first like hot tea, then like spring breaking through.
She never writes the number down; it sits on the tables edge, nearly lost among other notes while she washes dishes. She glances at it and thinks, Strange, if he called. Then, He wont. Guys like that never call.
The next morning she arrives ten minutes late; the reception already holds a irate elderly lady with a pug and a hooded boy. A routine shift: injuries, fleas, bites, rashes. By lunch her back still protests.
At three oclock he returnsno dog this time, two coffees in hand and a bag of pastries. He stands at the doorway, shyly smiling like a schoolboy.
May I?
Emily wipes her hands on her coat and nods, surprised.
You have no excuse now
I do. Thanks for saying so. And would you like to walk after work? If youre not too tired.
He doesnt pressure, doesnt rushjust asks and steps back, leaving her a little lighter.
She agrees. At first they walk only to the bus stop, then through the park. He walks beside her, explains how he found the dog, why he chose their clinic, where he lives. He talks plainly, without show. His coat is clearly expensive, his watch certainly not cheap.
What do you do? she asks when they reach the pond.
I work in IT. Honestly, its boringcodes, systems, projectors, holograms he chuckles. Id love a job like yours. Something real, dirty, alive.
Emily laughsfor the first time that day.
He doesnt kiss her goodbye. He simply takes her hand, gives it a gentle squeeze.
Two days later he returns with a leashthe dog is discharged. That marks the true beginning.
For the next two weeks he appears almost daily: brings coffee, picks up the dog, or just says, I missed you. Emily initially keeps her distance, laughs too loudly, answers too formally. Gradually she relaxes. He becomes part of her lifea warm extra shift, not a tiring one but a comforting blanket on a cold night.
She notices the flat getting cleaner, her breakfasts no longer skipped. Even the senior on the floor above comments one day, Emily, you look fresher now, and smiles without her usual sharp edge.
One evening, as Emily prepares to leave, he waits at the entrance in a dark coat, a thermos and a contented grin.
Im stealing youfor good, he says.
Im exhausted.
Especially so.
He leads her to his carconfident but not forceful. Inside the scent of citrus and cinnamon fills the air.
Where are we going?
Do you love stars?
What do you mean?
The real night sky. No lights, no city smog.
They drive about forty minutes. Outside the city the road turns black as ink, only the headlights cutting the darkness. A old firewatch tower stands in a field. He climbs first, then helps her up.
At the top the air is cold and quiet. Above them the Milky Way spreads, occasional planes, slow clouds drifting. He pours tea from the thermos, no sugarjust as she likes.
Im not a romantic, he admits. I just thought, after all the pain and shouting you hear every day, you need to breathe.
Emily stays silent, feeling a strange crack in her bones stitch itself togetherpainful, but right.
What if Im scared? she asks suddenly.
I am, too, he answers simply.
She looks at him, and for the first time without doubt thinks, Maybe it isnt all for nothing.
A little over a month passes. He doesnt take her to fancy restaurants or give her rings. He simply shows up, drives her to the market on weekends, waits after her shifts, helps carry dog food. Once he even stays while she assists in surgery, then asks, If you werent a vet, what would you have been? and listens, as if her answer matters.
Emily still lives in her flat, handwashes her laundry, rises at 6:40am. New details appear: his sweater on her hook, his key on the shared pegboard, coffee on the stovethe one she never bought before. She now turns at every hallway rustle hoping hes arrived.
When the clinics heating fails one day, Emily, accustomed to the chill, watches James arrive early with a portable heater.
This old fridge you have, he says, placing the heater against the wall. I dont want you catching a cold.
Im not fragile, she replies, turning the heater on.
He lingers by the door, wanting to say more but stopping. He hands her a slip of paper with a numberjust in case. Emily slips it into her pocket and forgets it until later that night.
She pulls the paper from beside the keys; the blue ink reads: James. She hasnt yet realized its the start of something bigger. A strange warmth spreads inside her, first like hot tea, then like spring breaking through.
She never writes the number down; it sits on the tables edge, nearly lost among other notes while she washes dishes. She glances at it and thinks, Strange, if he called. Then, He wont. Guys like that never call.
The next morning she arrives ten minutes late; the reception already holds a irate elderly lady with a pug and a hooded boy. A routine shift: injuries, fleas, bites, rashes. By lunch her back still protests.
At three oclock he returnsno dog this time, two coffees in hand and a bag of pastries. He stands at the doorway, shyly smiling like a schoolboy.
May I?
Emily wipes her hands on her coat and nods, surprised.
You have no excuse now
I do. Thanks for saying so. And would you like to walk after work? If youre not too tired.
He doesnt pressure, doesnt rushjust asks and steps back, leaving her a little lighter.
She agrees. At first they walk only to the bus stop, then through the park. He walks beside her, explains how he found the dog, why he chose their clinic, where he lives. He talks plainly, without show. His coat is clearly expensive, his watch certainly not cheap.
What do you do? she asks when they reach the pond.
I work in IT. Honestly, its boringcodes, systems, projectors, holograms he chuckles. Id love a job like yours. Something real, dirty, alive.
Emily laughsfor the first time that day.
He doesnt kiss her goodbye. He simply takes her hand, gives it a gentle squeeze.
Two days later he returns with a leashthe dog is discharged. That marks the true beginning.
For the next two weeks he appears almost daily: brings coffee, picks up the dog, or just says, I missed you. Emily initially keeps her distance, laughs too loudly, answers too formally. Gradually she relaxes. He becomes part of her lifea warm extra shift, not a tiring one but a comforting blanket on a cold night.
She notices the flat getting cleaner, her breakfasts no longer skipped. Even the senior on the floor above comments one day, Emily, you look fresher now, and smiles without her usual sharp edge.
One evening, as Emily prepares to leave, he waits at the entrance in a dark coat, a thermos and a contented grin.
Im stealing youfor good, he says.
Im exhausted.
Especially so.
He leads her to his carconfident but not forceful. Inside the scent of citrus and cinnamon fills the air.
Where are we going?
Do you love stars?
What do you mean?
The real night sky. No lights, no city smog.
They drive about forty minutes. Outside the city the road turns black as ink, only the headlights cutting the darkness. A old firewatch tower stands in a field. He climbs first, then helps her up.
At the top the air is cold and quiet. Above them the Milky Way spreads, occasional planes, slow clouds drifting. He pours tea from the thermos, no sugarjust as she likes.
Im not a romantic, he admits. I just thought, after all the pain and shouting you hear every day, you need to breathe.
Emily stays silent, feeling a strange crack in her bones stitch itself togetherpainful, but right.
What if Im scared? she asks suddenly.
I am, too, he answers simply.
She looks at him, and for the first time without doubt thinks, Maybe it isnt all for nothing.
A month later, James no longer drives her to restaurants, no rings appear. He simply stays, takes her to the market on weekends, waits after her shifts, helps carry dog food. Once he even sits at the clinic entrance while she assists in surgery, then asks, If you werent a vet, what would you have been? and genuinely listens.
Emily still lives in her flat, handwashes, rises at 6:40am.She finally lets the sunrise into her kitchen, feeling the steady rhythm of their shared life settle like a warm, familiar song.
