She Chose His Puppies Over Me

The day my heart gave out, my parents died in a car crash trying to reach the hospital through a torrential downpour.

I was still on the operating table, clinging to the fading edges of consciousness, when they slid the consent forms into my trembling hand so the surgeons could try to save them.

When I finally woke from the jaws of death, all that was left for me to see were their cold, silent bodies.

The woman who should have been holding my hand was busy posting a celebration on Facebook.

Huge congrats to Coco! She worked so hard all night and is finally a mommy!

With what little strength I had left, I tapped "like." Within seconds, my phone buzzed with a text from her.

Two words: Delete it.

I sent her our shared location at St. Jude's.

Come to the hospital. We need to talk in person.

Don't tell me your parents are sick again, she shot back. Honestly, I think they just have too much free time. I'm in the middle of something critical. I can't leave.

Your 'critical' emergency is delivering his dogs puppies?

Are you seriously jealous of a dog now? You're so incredibly petty, Luke. It's exhausting.

I didn't have the strength to fight. If she wouldn't come to me, she could talk to my lawyer instead.

By the time I finished making the funeral arrangements for my parents, it was late the following evening.

I dragged my hollow body through the front door, only to find our meticulously kept apartment in absolute chaos. Leona was tearing through drawers, mindlessly tossing things onto the floor. It was the careless behavior of someone who lived with the absolute certainty that someone else would always clean up after her.

Hearing the door, she didn't even look up. Her voice was laced with irritation.

Where the hell have you been all weekend? I actually had to order takeout for lunch.

I froze. So she hadn't come home last night either. Over the past two years, this had become our normal.

If Toby's apartment had a blown fuse, she would jump out of bed at 2 AM to fix it, yet she was the one who forgot to lock our front door, allowing a stumbling drunk to wander into our living rooman incident that left me with night terrors for a month. When Toby's dog was due, she didn't hesitate to skip my post-cardiac check-up, taking a whole week of paid leave just to be by his side, treating a canine labor like a medical residency, even though that was a vet's job.

When I didn't answer, Leona finally looked up, her expression shifting to mild surprise. You look like a ghost, Luke. Is your chest hurting again?

I took a step back, slipping out of reach of her outstretched hand. My voice felt entirely flat. I called you seventy-six times yesterday. Why didn't you answer?

Her hand remained suspended in the air, and her brow furrowed. Are you interrogating me, Luke? Toby and I have been best friends since childhood. Coco isn't just some pet; shes practically his child. He was terrified. She was having a complicated delivery. Toby was losing his mind. I had to help her through it. In a life-or-death situation like that, I didn't exactly have time to answer seventy-six pointless calls. It was just a routine follow-up, anyway. Normal people go to those alone all the time. And even if you needed someone, your parents are retired. They have nothing but time. What difference does it make if Im not there?

Watching her stand there, so utterly righteous, a hollow ache bloomed in my chest. What about my parents, Leona?

The crash had been horrific. My father's heart had stopped before the paramedics could even pull him from the wreckage. My mother made it to the OR, but her internal injuries were catastrophically complex. Leonas colleague had pulled me aside, telling me that only a surgeon with Leona's specific, brilliant expertise could navigate a trauma that severe. Only she could have given my mother a fighting chance.

She claimed she was too busy to look at her phone, yet the moment I liked her Facebook post, she had responded instantly to order me to take it down. She was so terrified of making Toby feel uncomfortable.

Is he really just your childhood friend? I asked softly. Because Leona, I saw you kiss him.

It was at the Bistro on 4ththe exact same restaurant where she had proposed to me. They were even sitting in our booth. I had been so blinded by shock when I walked out that I hadn't seen the oncoming motorcycle. Though the rider managed to swerve, the sheer terror of the near-miss had sent my compromised heart into arrest.

A flicker of panic pierced Leona's usually unflappable composure. Toby was just so stressed about Coco. I took him out to get some air. He had a few too many drinks, and it just... She softened her tone slightly, reaching out again. Look, let's not do this. I'll make it up to you. I promise I'll be there for your next appointment.

Always the same pattern. A flimsy excuse, a sweet promise, and the expectation that I would sweep everything under the rug. But she didn't get it. She would never have to accompany me again.

Don't bother, I said. I want a divorce.

Leona stiffened, her guilt instantly souring into defensive anger. For God's sake, Luke. Is this what you journalists do? Always looking for a dramatic headline? I told you it was a mistake. You're blowing this completely out of proportion. Besides, you're turning thirty, and you're still just a low-level clerk in the station's archive room making pennies. Honestly, who else is going to put up with you? I work myself to the bone at the hospital to provide for us. I don't come home to deal with your insecure tantrums!

She spun on her heel, storming toward the door. But as she reached the entryway, her eyes caught the edge of a document slipping out of my satchel. The words Death Certificate were printed in bold, stark lettering.

Leona paused, frowning. Who died?

She reached out to pull the paper from the bag. Before her fingers could touch it, her phone rang. Toby's voice came through the speaker, high and trembling with tears.

Leona... one of the puppies is choking on milk. The shop is packed with customers and I don't know what to do. Is it going to die? I'm so scared...

Leonas expression tightened instantly. Don't panic. I'm on my way.

She hung up and rushed out the door without looking back. In her haste, she forgot to lock her home officea room she had always guarded like a vault.

Like a ghost drawn to a light, I walked inside. But the moment I looked under her desk, a cold shock ran through me. Wedged tightly beneath one of the uneven legs of her mahogany desk to keep it from wobbling was my old press badge.

Five years ago, I had been the most promising young investigative journalist at the network. I had been assigned to interview the famously reclusive retired hospital president. After days of chasing him, running on empty, my blood sugar crashed and I fainted in the hospital courtyard. Leona was the one who found me. She revived me, gently telling me the old doctor was too stubborn to ever grant an interview. As my face fell, she slipped an orange candy into my mouth. I've always had a soft spot for people who love their work, she had whispered with a wink. So... why don't you interview me instead?

I found out later she was the youngest chief of cardiothoracic surgery in the state. Dozens of veteran reporters had tried and failed to get an exclusive with her, yet she broke her own rules for me. That was how we fell in love.

But as our careers picked up, the demands became suffocating. One evening, Leona held my hands, her eyes filled with soft pleading. Luke, I know how much journalism means to you. But with both our parents getting older, someone needs to manage the home front. Could you step back? I promise I'll take care of you forever.

I knew her dream of saving lives was just as sacred. So, I compromised. I didn't quit entirely; instead, I transferred to the quiet, dead-end archives department, just to keep a toehold in the building of the career I loved. On countless sleepless nights, I would sit in the dark, tracing the raised letters on my press badge. Whenever Leona caught me, she would wrap her arms around me, thick with guilt, repeating her promises to cherish me.

And now, that very badgethe symbol of everything I had sacrificed for herwas being ground into the floorboards, used as a literal piece of trash to balance her furniture.

I walked over to her safe. I entered Toby's birthday, and the electronic lock clicked open.

Resting on top was a thick manila envelope. Inside were dozens of photos: the two of them wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, walking hand-in-hand down a sunlit beach. Beneath the photos were stacks of receiptsdown payments she had made on Toby's loft, start-up capital for his pet boutique, contractor bills for the renovations. She was quietly bankrolling his life, covering his losses month after month.

Across the front of the envelope, in Leona's precise, elegant handwriting, were the words: I will always clear the path for your dreams.

I stared at those words for a long, quiet moment. I thought of the last five years of my lifethe endless loads of laundry, cooking dinners she was always too busy to eat, managing her parents' prescriptions. I thought of the hollow ache I felt whenever I saw my former colleagues rushing out with notebooks and recorders, fueled by the fire I had been forced to extinguish.

I let out a soft, bitter laugh. So she did understand the sacredness of a dream. She just didn't care about mine.

I took photos of the documents with my phone, placed everything back exactly as it was, and closed the safe. I dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

Hey, Rachel. I heard the network is still looking for a correspondent to go to the conflict zone in the Middle East. No one's volunteered yet. If you'll have me, I want to go.

Rachel gasped. Luke? Are you serious? I was devastated when you took that desk job years ago. This is a massive opportunity. Its incredibly dangerous, but if you make it back, your career will be completely revitalized.

Im ready, I said. I can leave within the week.

I hung up and began packing. There was nothing left in this apartment that belonged to me anymore. Except for one thing: the heavy wool sweater my mother had knitted for me before she died.

When I was a kid, she made all my clothes. As I grew up and her eyesight began to fail, I begged her to stop, not wanting her to strain her eyes. But after my cardiac surgery, I began to suffer from severe chills. My mother had secretly taken up her needles again, staying up until her eyes were bloodshot. When I scolded her, she just waved me off with a tired smile. Store-bought yarn doesn't hold love, sweetie. I picked the softest wool myself. Knitted with love for my boy.

It was my most precious possession, too sacred to wear. But as I searched the closet, it was gone. I was about to call Leona when an Instagram notification popped up on my phone. It was Toby.

Puppies were shivering, so a certain angel brought over the perfect blanket! Thank you 'Mommy' Leona from the bottom of our hearts. And hey, my custom tailoring skills aren't too bad either, right?

Leona was with him, celebrating the puppies' birth. In the photo, their heads were tilted together, shoulders touching, each holding three tiny golden retrievers. But my gaze locked onto the fabric wrapped around the puppies. It was my mother's sweaterchopped up, hemmed, and refitted into dog vests.

The bell above the pet boutique door chimed as I walked in. Through the glass, I saw Leona and Toby sharing a single spoon, eating a slice of cake.

Leona had severe germaphobia. At home, her cutlery had to be sterilized separately, and we always used serving spoons. Once, after a grueling day of cleaning, I had taken a sip from her water glass. She didn't say anything at the time, but that night, I found the glass in the trash can. She later explained it was just a habit she picked up in the sterile environment of the hospital.

I realized now, her boundaries were highly selective.

Seeing me, Toby raised an eyebrow, a smug, venomous smile playing on his lips. Oh, hey, Luke. Sorry, Leona and I have always shared everything since we were kids. Hope you don't mind. Leona, what did I tell you? He'd never actually divorce you. I mean, let's be reala guy with a dead-end job relying on his wife's handouts? How else is he going to take care of his aging parents? Look at him, tracking you down like a lost puppy. He's clinging so tight. He sighed dramatically. I guess Im just too independent. Back to being a hardworking entrepreneur for me!

Leona pinched his nose playfully. Aren't you the clever one? Always a troublemaker. Then she turned her gaze toward me, her eyes carrying the patronizing indulgence one might show a stubborn child. Alright, Luke. Since you came to make peace, I'll pretend I never heard that nonsense about a divorce. Go on home and clean up the living room. The puppies are still in a fragile state, so I'm going to stay here and help Toby monitor them for a few more days.

Listening to them, a bitter sense of absurdity washed over me. One was a homewrecker proud of his status; the other was an adulterer wrapping her betrayal in noble excuses.

Ignoring Leona entirely, I looked Toby dead in the eye and let out a cold laugh. If you're so incredibly independent, Toby, how is it that you're not only taking my wife, but stealing my clothes too? Tell me, is this 'hardworking entrepreneur' brand of yours just code for being a full-time mistress?

Several women browsing the pet accessories turned around, staring in shock.

Wait, one of them said, looking at Toby. She's not your wife? But you two were sharing a spoon... Thats a bit inappropriate, isn't it?

Yeah, when I said you guys looked like a lovely couple earlier, you didn't deny it. So she actually has a husband?

Tobys face flushed a deep, ugly crimson. Seeing his silent guilt, the customers scoffed, dropped their items onto the counters, and walked out.

Tobys eyes welled with tears as he turned to Leona. Leona, did he come here just to ruin my business? I only thought that old sweater was soft enough to keep the babies warm. He spends so much of your money anywayit's not like he can't afford a million other sweaters. Why is he attacking me like this? Those were some of my best clients. How am I supposed to run a business now?

Leona tenderly wiped his tears, then whipped around to glare at me with boiling fury. Luke, I was the one who took the sweater. Don't take your frustration out on Toby! It's just a cheap piece of wool. Why are you being so incredibly petty? Just ask your mother to knit you another one! It's not like it's some designer label. Why are you acting like it's priceless?

Looking at her sneering face, the sheer, dismissive cruelty in her eyes, something snapped. Before I could stop myself, my hand flew out and struck her across the cheek.

Yes, it is priceless! I screamed, my voice cracking under the weight of a million shattered pieces. Because my mother will never knit me another sweater again! While you were playing house with your little childhood friend, choosing to deliver his puppies over answering my dying calls, my parents died in a car crash!

Leonas eyes widened in sheer horror. Her arm dropped, instinctively letting go of Toby. What? What do you mean? Your parents... how could they...

Before she could finish, Toby lunged forward and shoved me hard. How dare you hit her! Its just a piece-of-shit sweater! Nobody wants your garbage anyway!

He violently ripped the small woolen vests off the puppies and threw them into a dirty litter box that the shop assistant was carrying out.

Crying about your parents being dead? Please! I literally ran into them at the grocery store this morning! I am sick of you, Luke. You're a pathetic, freeloading parasite who tells sick lies to manipulate his wife. You're an embarrassment to men!

The litter box hadn't been cleaned yet. Clumps of soiled waste clung to the delicate yarn, emitting a foul odor. My mother's last gift to me lay ruined, smeared in filth.

I-I'm sorry, I didn't know he was going to do that... the young assistant whispered, trembling as she looked at my bloodshot eyes.

A searing, toxic rage burned through my chest. I turned back toward Toby, raising my hand to strike. But before my palm could connect, a stinging blow struck the side of my face. Leona had slapped me. The sharp crack echoed through the silent boutique. I stumbled backward, my cheek burning, a high-pitched ringing filling my ears.

I looked up in complete disbelief.

For a split second, Leona looked stunned by her own hand. But then her eyes drifted to Toby's tear-streaked face, and her shock instantly hardened into disgust.

Luke, how dare you touch Toby? Because he exposed your pathetic lie? I thought you were a journalist who stood for the truth. Cursing your own parents just to get attention? Have you no shame? Think about our future children, for God's sake! Either apologize right now, or take your trash and get out. If you make another scene, Im calling the police!

I stumbled out into the pouring rain, clutching the soiled wool to my chest. By the time I made it back to the empty apartment, I was soaked to the bone and shivering violently. The rain had dissolved the waste, turning the beautiful sweater into a gray, stained rag. It was supposed to keep me warm. It was supposed to be my mother's embrace.

I sat on the cold floor all night. As the gray dawn crept through the windows, I reached into my bag and tore up the amicable divorce papers I had drafted.

Leona was right. A journalists duty is to bring the truth to light. How could I ever disappoint her?

The next night, I felt a cool, herbal ointment being gently rubbed onto my bruised cheek. I opened my eyes to see Leona sitting on the edge of the bed, her face softened with guilt.

Does it still hurt, Luke? Im so sorry. I lost my temper. But you shouldn't have attacked Toby like that in front of his customers. Hes a young, unmarried man trying to build a business. Its bad for his reputation.

I brushed her hand away, my voice completely dead. And?

Leona swallowed, looking tentative. So... could you post a public apology? Just say youve been extremely stressed and delirious from lack of sleep. That those accusations were a misunderstanding. Tobys hosting a big event for his shop's second anniversary the day after tomorrow. Since you still have contacts in media, maybe you could get some of your influencer friends to give him some free promotion?

In that moment, the sterile smell of her medicine felt more sickening than the filth on my mothers sweater.

Leona, Im only going to ask you this once. Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?

She looked down, unable to meet my eyes, but her voice remained firm. Toby has been crying non-stop. Just think of it as making things right. Do it for the sake of our parents' peace of mind. If you do this, I promise I will never miss another of your appointments. Ill make everything up to you.

I stared at her face, searching for a single trace of the woman I had fallen in love with. I found nothing.

After a long silence, I smiled. Okay.

Relief washed over her, and she reached out to hug me, but her phone began buzzing with rapid-fire texts. I didn't need to look to know who it was. True to form, she grabbed her coat and rushed back to Toby.

But this time, it didn't hurt.

A few minutes later, Toby called.

You really are pathetic, Luke, aren't you? he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. Using your weak heart to play the victim so Leona would run back to you. But look what happened. All it takes is one text from me, and she drops you instantly. You have nothing but a piece of paper that says you're married. It's completely worthless.

In the past, I would have hung up. This time, I let out a low chuckle. You're right, Toby. I am her legal husband. Leona's family values traditional marriages, and she cares deeply about her professional image. If I had to guess, you two always use protection, don't you? Because shes currently trying to get pregnant with me.

The sudden silence on the other end confirmed my theory.

So you see, she will never divorce me for a side-piece, I continued smoothly. Women can play around all they want, but at the end of the day, they go home. Oh, and she actually told me last night that once we have a child, all her real estate and investments will go to them. You won't get a single dime. At the end of the day, Toby, you're just a toy she plays with when I'm under the weather. Honestly, I should thank you.

Toby's heavy, furious breathing echoed through the receiver. Don't get cocky, you bastard! I will make her divorce you!

He didn't disappoint. Thirty minutes later, a video notification popped up. It was a recording of him and Leona in bed. It was accompanied by a smug voice note: Who's laughing now, Luke? I cried a little, and Leona promised to give me a baby. We didn't use protection tonight. Once Im carrying her child, you'll be kicked to the curb!

I didn't reply. It was pointless to argue with an idiot.

Two days later, Leona hosted a lavish celebration at the Grand Plaza Hotel for the second anniversary of Tobys pet boutique, paying for the entire event out of her own pocket. The room was packed with their mutual friends, hospital colleagues, and Toby's high-end clients.

Before the event started, Toby had boasted to everyone that I would be making a public livestream apology to him. When the time came, Leona nodded to the technician at the soundboard, signaling him to start the broadcast.

The massive projector screen on the stage lit up, showing my face.

Good evening, everyone, I said, looking straight into the camera. At my wife's request, I am here to make a formal public apology to Mr. Toby Evans.

Toby smirked, puffing out his chest with smug satisfaction.

But then, a cold smile spread across my face on the screen.

I am deeply sorry that when you sent me the video of you sleeping with my wife, I threw up out of sheer disgust instead of respecting your dignity as a homewrecker. As compensation, Ive decided to coordinate with my media colleagues to give you the free exposure you wanted. Everyone, please enjoy the show. Let us all bear witness to this grand, filthy affair.