When I walked into the shelter, I never expected to make a decision that would cost me my marriage. But when I saw the frail, old dog, I knew she needed me. Greg and I had struggled with infertility for years, and the sadness between us had grown. One evening, I suggested we get a dog to fill the silence, and we ended up at the shelter.
There, I found Maggie, a senior dog with health issues, labeled for hospice adoption. Greg immediately dismissed her, but I couldn’t walk away. He said if I brought her home, he’d leave. I didn’t hesitate—I chose Maggie.
Greg packed his bags as I carried Maggie home. The first weeks were tough, with Maggie weak and refusing food. Meanwhile, the reality of my crumbling marriage hit as divorce papers arrived. Yet, Maggie was there, comforting me through the pain. Slowly, she improved, and we began healing together.
Six months later, I ran into Greg, smug and cynical. He mocked me for choosing the dog, but when he saw Maggie, healthy and happy, he was stunned. Just then, Mark, a man who had become a part of my life, appeared with Maggie, and I realized how far I’d come. Greg stormed off, and I turned to Mark, ready to embrace the life I had built.
Six months later, Mark proposed at the same park, with Maggie by our side, completing our little family. “Of course,” I said through tears.