𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔.
Elizabeth Reid learned, at seventeen, that she was going to die. Diagnosed with terminal cancer, she's faced with a question that no one should have to answer.
How do you leave a mark on a wo...
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I jolted awake as the car hit a bump, blinking groggily. It took me a second to remember where I was — oh yeah, Nathan's surprise trip. God, how long had I been out?
The trees outside were a green blur. I'd been half awake for the last bit, drifting in and out. Comfy, though, curled up in the passenger seat with Nathan's jacket as a makeshift pillow.
The car slowed, gravel crunching under the tyres. Nathan's voice was soft. "We're here."
I sat up, stretching, peering out the window, trying to figure out where 'here' was. Then it hit me.
"No way," I breathed.
The faded sign, the scruffy car park, those yellow buildings... It was the dog shelter. The one where Nathan and I volunteered back when we were fourteen.
Memories flooded back. The excited barking when we would arrive. That time, Nathan was soaked with a hose by a playful lab that had stolen it from him. The warm fuzzy feeling when a dog we'd helped found their forever home.
I turned to him, grinning like an idiot. "You brought me here?"
He nodded, looking all shy and sweet. "Thought you might want to see some old friends."
How he looked at me made my stomach do this weird flip. His eyes were soft, full of... something. It's best friend stuff, obviously—just that.
But still. Butterflies, you know? Which was stupid because we were just friends. Always have been. And with everything going on... well.
It's a bit late for that.
I pushed those thoughts away. This was Nathan being Nathan — knowing exactly what I needed. A bit of joy. Some furry cuddles. Unconditional love, like only dogs can give.
"Thanks," I said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "It's perfect."
His cheeks went pink, and he looked away quickly and cleared his throat. "Right then. Let's see if old Rufus is still bossing everyone about, yeah?"
I laughed, already feeling lighter than I had in ages. Trust Nathan to know just what I needed.
We climbed out of the car, stretching our legs after the long drive. The familiar smell of the shelter hit me — a mix of dog food, disinfectant, and that unmistakable wet dog scent. It was oddly comforting.
"Come on," Nathan said, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the entrance. My heart did that stupid fluttery thing again. I told it to knock it off.
The reception area looked the same—the same faded posters of happy dogs, the same wonky desk with the ancient computer. Even the potted plant in the corner looked identical, though I was sure it had to be different by now.
A woman I didn't recognise looked up as we entered. "Can I help you?"
"Hi," Nathan began, flashing his charming smile. We used to volunteer here a couple of years back. Would it be possible for us to say hi to some of the dogs?"
