“You met her first, so go with her,” said Edward to the dog. “I’ll miss you.”
The train slowed as it pulled into the station. Passengers in the carriage had already queued up by the doors. Outside, the figures on the platform flickered past more and more slowly under the glare of the bright overhead lights. Finally, the train jerked to a stop. With a hiss, the doors slid open, and people laden with bags and shopping surged out onto the worn, scuffed platform of a small commuter stop just outside London.
Chatting and stretching their stiff legs, the crowd drifted toward the exit. Edward stepped off last. No one was waiting for him. There was no hurry to get back to his lonely rented flat, a place he only returned to sleep.
A few months ago, he’d divorced his wife, left her the house with their newborn daughter, and moved to the outskirts for something cheaper.
He’d met a girl once—dated briefly, then parted ways. Then, three months later, she showed up unannounced with a growing bump. Said she was pregnant. He offered to marry her. Four months later, she gave birth to a healthy baby girl.
Tearfully, she confessed she’d been seeing someone else before him—a man who’d dropped her the moment he found out. Then Edward came along. She had nowhere else to go, didn’t want to return to her hometown. He couldn’t bring himself to kick her out, so he left instead, filing for divorce.
Now he worked almost nonstop, saving for a new place. A friend had put together a crew, and Edward joined them, doing upscale renovations on flats and cottages.
He ambled toward the stairwell, lit by a flickering lamppost. At the bottom, he noticed a golden retriever sitting there. The dog looked at him, then back up at the platform.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s left. Owner didn’t show? Maybe they’ll be on the last train,” Edward muttered and started walking away.
A few steps later, he glanced back. The dog had hopped onto the platform, scanning the empty tracks. The train rumbled into the distance. Whining, the retriever watched it go before trotting down the stairs and darting up to Edward, sitting right in front of him, eyes pleading.
“What’s the plan, mate? Gonna wait for the next one, or are you coming with me? Won’t ask twice,” Edward said, turning away without looking back.
The dog hesitated, watching him go, then padded after him. At first, it lagged behind, then caught up and walked beside him.
“Lonely, eh? I get it. Who do you belong to? Haven’t seen you around before. But then again, I’m new here myself…”
The dog kept pace, listening as they reached Edward’s four-story brick building. At the entrance, it paused.
“Come on in,” Edward said, holding the door wide. “Make up your mind—I’m starving and knackered.” He stepped inside but kept the door propped open.
The dog slowly climbed the steps, slipping past him. “Yeah, you’re trouble, aren’t you?” Edward chuckled, letting the door shut behind them.
The dimly lit hallway smelled of damp carpet.
“Third floor. No lift, sorry,” Edward joked as they climbed. The dog bounded ahead, waiting on each landing. At his door, Edward fished out his keys.
“Home sweet home.” He flicked on the light in the narrow entryway. “Make yourself comfortable. Won’t ask twice.”
The dog hesitated, then stepped in with quiet dignity and sat by the coat rack.
“Polite. Respect.” Edward toed off his boots. “But since you’re here, have a proper look around.”
He tossed his rucksack on the side table and headed to the kitchen. The dog lay in the hall, ears twitching at the clatter of dishes. When the scent of reheated pasta hit, it perked up, licking its chops.
“Knew that’d get you.” Edward grabbed a second bowl, filled it, and set it near the sink.
The dog wolfed it down, then stared expectantly.
“Sorry, that’s it. Didn’t plan on company.” Noticing the glance at the tap, Edward sighed. “Never had a dog before.” He rinsed the bowl and filled it with water. The dog lapped noisily, splashing drops everywhere.
Later, Edward sprawled on the sofa watching telly. The dog curled at his feet, head on its paws—but every rustle made its ears prick up.
“Relax, mate,” Edward said, switching off the TV.
Yawning, he shuffled to unfold the sofa bed. The dog sprang up.
“Gotta make this up. One sec.”
Miraculously, the dog stepped back, claws clicking on the linoleum.
“Where’d you learn that?” Edward grinned. “Wish you could tell me your name.”
Once the bed was ready, the dog trotted to the hallway.
“Hey, you can stay in here,” Edward called, but it didn’t return. “Suit yourself.” He flicked off the light.
Half-asleep, he heard shuffling and faint whines. Morning light stabbed his eyes. The noise came again—scratches at the door. Bleary, he remembered the dog. Padding out in his boxers, he found it sitting by the front door.
“Oh. Right. Forgot about you. Need me to let you out?” He opened the door, and the dog bolted downstairs.
“The front door—” Edward started to follow, but the slam below answered that.
After a shower, he slapped together two sandwiches, put the kettle on, threw on a jacket, and shuffled downstairs in slippers. The dog sat waiting.
“Come on, then.” Edward jerked his head toward the building.
No hesitation this time—the dog raced inside and waited by his flat. This time, it beelined for the kitchen, scarfing the sandwich from the floor. They left together, walking to the station side by side.
“Run free. I’ve got work. Will you be here later? No hard feelings if not.” Edward ruffled its ears and crossed to the opposite platform.
That evening, he stepped off last again, wondering if the dog would be there—or if it had found its real owner. But there it was, perched by the stairs, watching passengers descend. Tail wagging, it trotted over when it spotted him.
“Owner still a no-show? Or were you waiting for me?” Edward scratched its head. “Let’s go, then.”
The next morning at the station, Edward crouched in front of it.
“Listen, I won’t be back tonight. Stuff to do. Might be a couple days. If not… see you around.” He stood and walked off.
The dog watched him until he disappeared.
The contractor was pushing to finish the job, so the crew pulled an all-nighter. Two days later, exhausted and hungry, Edward stepped onto the empty platform late at night. Under the harsh lights, there was no sign of the dog. “Must’ve found its owner,” he thought, trudging home.
Seeing the empty bowl in the kitchen sharpened the loneliness. He’d grown fond of that clever mutt. That night, he woke to silence—no whines, no shuffling. He rolled over.
The alarm blared what felt like minutes later. Every muscle ached, but another job waited. Not hungry, he washed the dog’s bowl, put it away, gulped water straight from the kettle, and headed out.
On the platform, amid waiting passengers, he spotted the golden retriever—this time, next to a woman.
“Is he yours?” Edward asked, approaching her.
“Why?” She looked puzzled.
“He stayed with me while you were gone. Good dog. Smart. Lucky you.”
She smiled. “Oh, he’s not mine. He did the same thing—just showed up here. I’ve been at the hospital with my mum; haven’t been home in days.”
“Really? What’s his name?”
“Hamlet.”
The crowd stirred—the train was coming.
“Bye, Hamlet,” Edward said.
He and the woman boarded the same carriage. “I’m Edward. You?”
“Emily.”
“Ha. Funny, our names start the same. Like fate. Where do you work?” He backtracked when she didn’t laugh.
“Nurse.”
They talked the whole way into London. Edward liked her more by the minute—easy to talk to. No wonder the dog chose her. Emily explained Hamlet’s real owner, an elderly professor, had passed away suddenly.
“So Hamlet kept waiting for him at the station, then latched onto me. Maybe smelled the hospital—his owner had heart trouble.”
“Why’d he pick me? I don’t exactly smell like antiseptic.”
“Maybe he sensed you were lonely too,” she said softly.
They arranged to meet at the station that evening. Edward worked in a daze, counting the hours. Afterward, heart racing, he sprinted to the platform and spotted Emily, waving. The ride flew by, the conversation effortless.
Hamlet bounded toward them, tail whipping. Emily crouched toAnd as they walked home together under the streetlights, the dog trotting happily ahead, Edward finally understood that sometimes life sends you exactly what you need—even if it arrives with four paws and a wagging tail.
