He Chose Her Dog Over Me

In the six years we were together, I was never given a nickname. To Galen, I was either hey, babe when he was distracted, or my full name: Sally Foster.

He always claimed he was a creature of habit, that he kept everyone in his contacts saved by their formal, full names. I believed him.

Until the day he asked me to reply to a client text while his hands were full, and I saw the contact pinned to the very top of his list.

Molly.

Her profile picture was a cute, fluffy Shiba Inu.

I tapped on the chat thread. The most recent message was from him, sent at two in the morning:

Insomnia again? Warm up some milk and try to get some sleep. Don't push yourself.

Meanwhile, the day before, when my fever spiked to 102 degrees, his only text to me was: Drink water.

I scrolled back through two years of their history. He had sent Molly sunrise greetings, late-night lullabies, and curated gift lists for every minor holiday.

For me, his replies were a predictable rotation of Yeah, sure, okay, got it.

The longest text he had sent me in months was a reminder to pay our shared utility bill.

Everyone in his life was filed away by first and last name. Only Molly was pinned to the top, defying his own rules.

That night, I opened my laptop and accepted the transfer assignment from the Vienna headquarters.

He gave me the cold dignity of my full name; I would return the favor with a clean, silent exit.

"Sally, where did you put my grey silk shirt?"

The bedroom door flung open. Galen stood in the doorway, his forehead creased in a tight frown, a half-knotted tie dangling from his hand.

My 102-degree fever had finally broken, but my head still throbbed with a dull, stabbing pain. I propped myself up against the headboard, feeling entirely drained.

"Its in the garment bag on the second rack of the closet," I said, my voice raspy.

He strode over, rummaged through the hangers, and yanked the shirt out with a sharp tug.

"Why isn't it ironed? I have a major pitch meeting this morning." His voice carried a sharp edge of irritation.

"I had a high fever yesterday," I said, looking at him. "I couldn't get out of bed."

He paused mid-button, casting a brief, assessing glance over his shoulder at me.

"Its just a cold. Take some Tylenol and you'll be fine," he muttered, turning back to the vanity mirror. "Drink plenty of water. Don't just lie there all day; it only makes you weaker."

Drink water.

Six years of partnership, and that was the extent of his concern for a partner burning up with a severe fever.

I turned away and reached for my phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up with a notification from the HR director at the Vienna office.

Hi Sally, the transfer agreement has been sent to your inbox. Weve booked your flight for next Friday. Does that timeline work for you?

I typed a single word in response.

Yes.

Galen adjusted his tie in the mirror and turned around. "Are you taking the day off?"

"Yes."

"Great. Can you drop my car off at the dealership for its scheduled maintenance?" He tossed the car keys onto the foot of the bed. "Im running late, so Ill just call an Uber to the office."

"I'm still dizzy from the fever. I shouldn't be driving." I didn't reach for the keys.

Galens eyebrows knitted together again. "Why are you being so delicate lately? The dealership is barely a mile away. How hard is it to just drive it over?"

I stared at his face, struck by the casual entitlement written across it. Over the last six years, he had gradually shifted all of his mundane errands onto my shoulderspicking up his dry cleaning, managing his packages, paying the bills, scheduling his car maintenance. He had stopped treating me like a girlfriend and started treating me like an unpaid personal assistant.

"Galen," I said quietly.

"What?" He glanced at his watch, clearly impatient.

"Where were you last night?" I asked. "I called you in the middle of the night, but it went straight to voicemail."

His eyes flickered with a brief shadow of hesitation before smoothing over. "Working late at the office. My phone was on silent."

Working late.

I unlocked my phone, opened the photo gallery, and pulled up a screenshot from the previous night. It was a photo of the chat log from his backup phone, which he had accidentally left on the coffee table.

Is Molly having trouble sleeping again?

Yeah, I went over to check on her and made her some warm milk. She's always struggled with sleeping in a new place.

I turned the screen toward him. "Does your company's late-night consulting work involve driving across town to make warm milk for Molly?"

Galens face instantly paled. He took two quick strides toward the bed, snatched the phone out of my hand, and stared at the screen before throwing it back onto the mattress.

"Sally, you went through my phone?" his voice rose, sharp and defensive.

"You asked me to use your backup phone to send a presentation file to a client. The notification popped up on the screen." My voice was entirely flat.

"This is what you're making a big deal out of?" He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Molly just moved into her new place yesterday. She was scared, alone, and couldn't sleep. What's wrong with me going over to support her as a friend?"

"A friend," I repeated, letting the word hang in the air. "So your 'friend' gets a cute nickname pinned to the top of your chat, and your girlfriend of six years is saved under her first and last name."

"Are you seriously still on about this?" Galen was thoroughly exasperated now. "Sally, you know I don't care about cheesy contact names. Ive always been that way. Are you really picking a fight over a contact card?"

"No, Im not picking a fight over a contact card," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "Im looking at the facts. I had a 102-degree fever, and you told me to drink water. She had insomnia, and you drove across the city in the middle of the night to make her milk."

I paused. "Galen, is that what you call friendship?"

"Shes young, Sally. Shes on her own in this city and its hard for her," Galen said, his tone thick with defensive protectiveness. "Youre different. Youre independent, you can handle yourself. Why do you have to be so jealous of a kid?"

Independent.

Because I was strong, I didn't deserve to be cared for.

A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me, accompanied by a faint sensation of nausea. "I'm not jealous." I pulled the duvet back over my shoulders and closed my eyes. "Just go. Don't miss your meeting."

Galen stood by the bed for a long moment. My unusual lack of anger seemed to throw him off balance.

"Don't be passive-aggressive," he said, his voice softening slightly. "Look, I'll come home early tonight and we can go out for dinner, okay?"

"No need," I said, my back turned to him. "I have plans."

"Suit yourself." His patience evaporated. He grabbed his coat and slammed the bedroom door behind him.

By afternoon, my fever had completely subsided. I got out of bed and began clearing out the apartment.

The closet was packed with clothes, but only a small section on the left belonged to me. I dragged out a large suitcase and began folding my things inside. Since Vienna would be cold, I packed all of my heavy winter coats and sweaters.

At the bottom of my dresser drawer, I found a small velvet box. It contained a heavy, incredibly gaudy gold heart necklace that Galen had given me for our third anniversary. I had never worn it once. I was highly sensitive to cheap metals, and the design was entirely incompatible with my professional wardrobe.

When I had asked him back then why he chose it, he had shrugged and said, "I just grabbed something at the mall. Gold holds its value."

I dropped the box into a trash bag. The bag was already half-full of other thoughtless, last-minute gifts he had bought me over the last six years.

Around five in the evening, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Molly.

Sally! I heard you were sick! Hope you're feeling better!

The tone was as bubbly and familiar as if we were best friends. A second later, an image notification popped up. It was a photo of Galen with his sleeves rolled up, standing in front of a kitchen sink, fixing a pipe. The photo was taken from behind with a warm, cozy filter.

The caption read: Gav is such a lifesaver. Thank god he's here, or my new place would be completely flooded!

I looked at the timestamp. Galen had claimed he had an incredibly important proposal to pitch and promised to come home early to take me to dinner. It was now 5:00 PM.

His priority was fixing Mollys plumbing.

Without replying to her, I opened my chat with Galen.

Where are you?

Ten minutes later, he replied.

Still stuck at the office. The proposal had some last-minute edits. I probably won't make it back in time for dinner, grab some takeout.

I stared at the screen and let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

Okay, don't work too hard.

A few moments later, Molly texted again.

Sally, please don't be mad at Gav. He's just incredibly sweet and treats me like a little sister. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop asking him for help.

So sweet. So considerate. She had laid out a perfect trapif I expressed any discomfort, I was the petty, overbearing girlfriend.

I typed a quick reply.

I don't mind at all. Once he's done with the pipes, have him mop the kitchen floor too.

I locked my phone and tossed it aside.

At 8:00 PM, I was sitting alone at the dining table, eating takeout out of a plastic container, when I heard the front door unlock. Galen walked in, looking exhausted.

"I thought you weren't coming back tonight," I said, chewing my food.

He paused while taking off his shoes. "The proposal got approved early, so I managed to head home." He walked over to the table and glanced at my takeout box. "Why are you eating this? I thought you had plans."

"I got stood up," I said casually.

He pulled out a chair, sat down, and picked up my water glass to take a sip. "I'm exhausted. Today was a nightmare, I didn't even have time to grab a drink of water."

I stared at the glass. It was the one I had been using while sick.

"Did you just come from the office?" I asked.

"Yeah, where else?" He didn't look up, already scrolling through his phone.

"I see," I nodded. "Is Molly's apartment on the company payroll now?"

Galens thumb froze on his screen. He snapped his head up, staring at me. "Are you tracking me?"

"She sent me the photo herself." I unlocked my phone, brought up the image, and turned it toward him. "It's a nice shot. Very domestic."

Galens face flushed a deep crimson. He pushed the phone back toward me. "I just went over to help her out. It took fifteen minutes. Do you really have to interrogate me like a detective?"

"Fifteen minutes?" I let out a cold laugh. "From your office to her apartment, and then back hereeven without traffic, that's a two-hour trip. What happened to your late-night proposal?"

"Sally, can you stop nagging me like a bitter, insecure housewife!" He slammed his palm on the table and stood up. "I only lied because I didn't want to deal with your endless drama. Do you have to make a federal case out of everything?"

"No," I said, packing up my takeout container and throwing it into the trash can. "I really don't."

My quiet composure seemed to unnerve him. He softened his posture slightly, trying to sound reasonable. "Shes a young girl, Sally. Her pipe burst and her kitchen was flooding. As a friend, how could I just ignore her?"

"Doesn't her building have maintenance? Aren't there plumbers in this city?" I looked into his eyes. "Galen, the world keeps spinning without you, but apparently, Molly can't survive basic adulting unless you're there to hold her hand."

"Don't be so venomous," he frowned. "We grew up together. She's like family to me. Why do you always have to paint it as something sordid?"

"Family?" I smiled. "Then tell her to start calling you 'brother' instead of 'Gav'."

"What's the difference?"

"A big one," I said, turning to walk toward the bedroom. "A brother is family, Galen. You're just her favorite safety net."

"Sally!" he yelled after me.

On Saturday, one of Galen's college roommates, Jared, came back to town and organized a get-together at a local restaurant. Jared was one of the few people in Galen's circle who had always been polite to me.

Around three in the afternoon, Galen was in the bedroom picking out his outfit. "Hurry up and get changed. Jared put this dinner together, it would look bad if we didn't show up."

"I have some work to finish. I'll take an Uber and meet you there later." I sat in front of my laptop, reviewing my apartment lease agreement for Vienna.

He glanced at my screen, which was covered in German text. "Why do you spend so much time on that stuff? It's not like they're giving you a raise for it," he scoffed, pulling on his jacket. "Just don't be late. Don't embarrass me."

The front door clicked shut. I signed the digital contract, letting out a long, slow breath. My flight was next Friday. Five days left.

At seven, I arrived at the restaurant. When I pushed open the door to the private dining room, the noisy chatter instantly quieted.

About a dozen people were gathered around the long table. Galen sat near the head of the table, and to his right sat Molly. She was wearing a loose, oversized black shell jacket. The sleeves were rolled up twice, hanging loosely on her frame to give her a fragile, delicate look.

I recognized the jacket instantly. It was the expensive Arc'teryx shell Galen had bought last winter.

"Sally's here!" someone called out.

Galen looked up at me. He didn't stand, but merely pointed toward an empty chair at the far end of the table. "Sit down over there."

It was the seat furthest from him, right next to the kitchen service door where servers hurried in and out.

I walked over and sat down. Molly turned to look at me, offering a sweet, innocent smile. "Sally, you made it! I'm so sorry about the jacket. It was freezing outside, so I borrowed Gav's shell. You don't mind, do you?" She placed a delicate emphasis on the word borrowed.

"I don't mind," I said, pouring myself a glass of water. My voice was perfectly steady. "I wouldn't mind if a stray dog wore it to keep warm, let alone you."

The entire room went dead silent. People exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"Sally, what the hell is wrong with you?" Galen slammed his fork onto the table. "Molly was cold and borrowed a jacket. Why are you being so vicious?"

Mollys eyes instantly welled with tears. She reached out and timidly tugged at Galens sleeve. "Gav, its okay. Its my fault. I shouldn't have worn your jacket. Ill take it off right now." She made a show of slipping the jacket off her shoulders.

"Keep it on!" Galen pressed his hand over hers to stop her, before glaring across the table at me. "Did you forget to take your meds today? Why are you trying to humiliate me in front of my friends?"

Jared quickly stepped in to defuse the tension. "Hey, come on, guys. Its no big deal. Sally was just joking. Lets get a round of drinks, come on!"

The atmosphere slowly recovered, but I could feel the pitying, amused glances from around the table.

Throughout the dinner, Molly was highly attentive. She put food on Galen's plate, poured his drinks, and intercepted shots on his behalf, showing off her intimate knowledge of his preferences.

"Oh, wait, keep the cilantro away from that side. Galen can't stand it on his fish," Molly laughed, stopping the lazy Susan.

Someone across the table joked, "Molly, you know Galen better than his own girlfriend. Talk about a perfect match."

Mollys cheeks flushed, and she playfully nudged the speaker's shoulder. "Stop saying stupid things. We're just childhood best friends, right, Gav?"

Galen chuckled, taking a sip of his beer without denying it. "She's always been like this. Just one of the guys."

I sat at the very edge of the table, a complete outsider, watching their cozy performance. I felt a sudden, profound sense of absurdity. What exactly had I been holding onto for the last six years?

Midway through the dinner, Molly got up to go to the restroom. I stood up and followed her.

At the vanity mirror, Molly was touched up her lipstick. Seeing my reflection in the mirror, she didn't stop her movements.

"Sally, you really don't need to be so threatened by me," she said, pressing her lips together and smiling at her reflection. "If Galen and I were going to happen, we would have years ago. You wouldn't even be in the picture."

I turned on the faucet and washed my hands.

"Do you think wearing his jacket makes me angry?" she turned around, leaning against the marble counter, her eyes filled with unshielded triumph. "I just wanted to remind you who has actually been by his side through everything."

I pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and dried my hands. "Molly, do you actually find some kind of cheap thrill in trying to play house with someone else's boyfriend?" I tossed the paper towel into the bin.

"Im not playing anything," she shrugged, wearing an innocent expression. "Galen chooses to take care of me. If you have an issue with that, take it up with him. Why are you projecting your insecurities onto me?"

"You misunderstand," I said, turning to look her straight in the eye. "I'm not angry. I just think you're incredibly pathetic."

Her smile faltered. "What do you mean?"

"Playing dumb and acting helpless just to survive on the scraps of another woman's boyfriend." I offered her a polite smile. "If you want him so badly, take him. I was getting tired of holding onto garbage anyway."

Three days left.

My luggage was completely packed. Three large suitcases stood quietly in the corner of the guest bedroom. Galen had been incredibly busy lately, leaving early and returning late, so he hadn't noticed anything missing from the apartment. He likely assumed I was still just giving him the silent treatment.

On Wednesday morning, my phone rang. It was the primary care physician at the hospice facility where my grandmother was staying.

"Ms. Foster, your grandmother's condition has deteriorated rapidly. We need an immediate family member or her designated emergency contact to sign the end-of-life care authorization. We haven't been able to reach your mother. Can you get here as soon as possible?"

My mind went completely blank. My grandmother was my only real family left in the world.

"I'm on my way!"

I grabbed my bag and rushed out the door. When I reached the street, I realized a torrential storm was raging outside. The ride-share apps showed a waitlist of over three hundred people, and there wasn't a single empty taxi in sight.

With trembling fingers, I dialed Galen's number. In this city, he was the only person I could turn to.

It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. The background was loud and chaotic, sounding like a busy clinic.

"What is it?" his voice was tense and impatient.

"Galen, where are you? Can you drive me to Memorial Hospital? Nana is in critical condition, and they need me to sign the papers immediately," I gasped out, my voice cracking with panic.

The line went quiet for a second. "Memorial? In this weather? The highway is going to be completely flooded."

"Please, Galen, I can't get an Uber," I cried, tears mixing with the rain pouring down my face.

"Fine, just wait for me. I'll take care of something here and head over." He hung up immediately.

I stood in the pouring rain, staring toward the direction of the hospital, clutching my phone like a lifeline.

Ten minutes passed.

Thirty minutes.

An hour.

Galens car never showed up.

I called him again. His phone was turned off.

The rain poured heavier, soaking me to the bone. Cold and shivering, a dark, suffocating despair swallowed me whole.

Finally, an empty taxi pulled up in front of me. I scrambled inside, completely desperate. "Memorial Hospital, please. As fast as you can."

When I finally reached the ICU doors, the doctor was already stepping out. Looking at my drenched, shivering state, he let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Foster. She couldn't hold on long enough."

In that moment, the world fell away. I couldn't hear the doctors condolences, nor the frantic hum of the hospital corridor. Everything turned into a silent, blinding white.

I didn't even cry. I simply signed the documents, completed the paperwork, and handled my grandmother's final arrangements like a lifeless machine.

By the time I walked out of the crematorium carrying her urn, it was late at night. My phone finally regained signal, and several notifications popped up on my screen.

It was an Instagram post from Molly.

In the photo, Galen was completely drenched, holding a muddy, shivering Shiba Inu in his arms. Molly stood beside him, carefully drying the dog's fur with a towel.

The caption read: So thankful Gav braved the storm to help me find Waffles. I don't know what I would've done without him. You're the best.

The post had been published at the exact hour I was standing in the freezing rain, waiting for him to save my grandmother.

I stared at the photo. A single tear slipped down my cheek, blurring Mollys triumphant smile on the screen.

My grandmother was dying, waiting for my signature. And he was out rescuing Mollys dog.

I didn't scream. I didn't send a furious text.

I simply tapped the heart icon to "like" her post. Then, I went home.

Back in the apartment that still carried his scent, I pulled out one last cardboard box. I gathered every single thing he had ever given me over our six years together and threw them insidethe cheap gold necklace, the generic mug bought on sale, the cheap plush toys from arcade dates.

I lined up my three large suitcases by the front door. Then, I slipped off the $30 silver band I wore on my fingerthe ring he had bought me from a street market when we were broke college studentsand placed it precisely in the center of the coffee table.

Beside the ring, I placed my set of keys.

At 5:00 AM, as the sky began to turn a faint grey, my phone vibrated. It was a text from Galen.

My phone died yesterday. Molly's dog got out and I had to help her find him. The storm was so bad we got stuck at the 24-hour vet clinic. How is your grandma? I'll try to find some time to drop by today.

How laughable. Find some time.

I gripped the handle of my suitcase, took one last look at the apartment I had shared with him for six years, and opened the door. It was over.

I typed out my last message to him and pressed send.

No need. We're done, Galen.