For a long moment, neither moved. The dog didn’t bolt, didn’t growl. She only stared, as if waiting for him to decide what kind of man he was. Slowly, Ethan crouched until his knees creaked, reached into his pocket, and placed half a sandwich on the ground. The dog sniffed the air, crept forward one careful step at a time, and took the food with surprising gentleness.
That tiny gesture, a stray’s trust offered so readily, lodged itself in Ethan’s chest. The next morning she returned. And the morning after that. Ethan began calling her Bella, a name spoken softly at first, almost as if he were afraid to give it weight.