Chapter 9
A while later, I accepted his request.
He seized the chance immediately and sent a flood of puppy photos, acting so obedient I almost laughed.
I was never really that mad.
Mostly just speechless.
And honestly—
Beautiful but stupid was still a very competitive dowry.
I was fairly satisfied.
So I asked, Why were you even in that group chat?
He replied fast.
It’s actually a pretty legit group. The stuff they sell is real. How did you get in?
I thought about it.
A teacher introduced me. Self-defense.
He was confused.
Self-defense?
I sighed.
You’ve only seen the edited version of my best friend. I’ve met the real-world version of too many creatures already.
Some of them can’t even be called human.
There was a pause.
Then he replied, To be fair, your best friend’s edited photos are also terrifying. I really thought I’d encountered something unclean.
I could not even argue with that.
The chat went quiet for a moment.
Then he changed the subject.
The doctor said the puppy can be discharged in three days. Want to come pick him up with me?
I typed back.
I can. But where will he stay after? My family lives too far away.
I have an apartment nearby, he said. I can keep him there.
Good.
We set a time.
Discharge day was Saturday.
The hospital was busy, so the two of us split up the work. He handled paperwork. I held the puppy.
The doctor laughed when she looked at us.
“You two really look like first-time puppy parents.”
I smiled awkwardly.
At that moment, something warm touched the back of my hand.
I lowered my eyes.
The puppy was licking my fingers.
The doctor smiled.
“Take good care of him. He likes both of you very much, or he wouldn’t have gathered the courage to come to you for help.”
I hesitated, then asked quietly, “Do you think his mother is really gone?”
The doctor sighed.
“I’m not sure. Your friend here has been looking around the area all week and said he hardly saw any strays. It’s strange. Since fall started, there have been fewer and fewer cats and dogs around. We used to feed some nearby, but they’ve vanished.”
She lowered her voice.
“I’ve heard rumors. Some shady barbecue stalls catch strays and pass the meat off as beef or lamb. I don’t know whether any places in that shopping district do that, but…”
Her words trailed off.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
Something cold moved through both of us.
Please let that not be true, I thought.
We left the hospital with the puppy in our arms.
The weather outside was bright and warm, and there was a pet-friendly park nearby, so I asked if he wanted to walk there for a bit and let the puppy stretch its legs.
He agreed immediately.
Then, halfway there, he seemed to remember something.
“We should name him.”
I looked down at the puppy, then up at him.
After a second, I smiled.
“Lucky.”
He coughed.
“Lucky works. As in lucky to survive.”
The puppy made a tiny sound in my arms.
He pointed at it at once.
“See? He agrees.”
I laughed and squeezed the little paw.
“Lucky baby.”
The instant I said that, the puppy was snatched gently out of my arms.
He set it down with a little harness and waved it away.
“Go on. Run around.”
I laughed again.
“You’re unbelievable.”
He stood up straight as if nothing unusual had happened and moved to stand beside me while Lucky bounded clumsily across the grass.
The sun was warm.
The whole park smelled like dry grass and late-afternoon light.
I stretched lazily, feeling better than I had all week.
Then suddenly his hand grabbed the hem of my puffer jacket and tugged it down.
His ears were red.
“Your jacket is too short. Your waist is showing.”
I turned and stared at him.
“You don’t understand fashion.”
He muttered, “What fashion? That’s just asking for cold air to get in.”
I immediately grabbed his ear.
“Say that again.”
He yelped and caught my wrist.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Right then, a familiar voice floated over from behind us.
“Well, well. Where did the cool, arrogant campus heartthrob go? Why are you acting like a puppy in front of her?”
I turned.
My best friend.
And her boyfriend.
My best friend was grinning from ear to ear.
“You two—”
He immediately cut in and said with total seriousness, “This is called flexibility. Learn from it.”
My best friend’s boyfriend snorted.
Before anyone could continue, an awful, broken bark suddenly rang out from the other side of the park.
Every one of us froze.
Lucky.
The doctor had warned us that for at least another half month, every bark would put strain on his healing tongue.
He had been so careful.
If he barked now, then something was wrong.
We ran.