Waiting for the Reunion
September was warm, dry, and sunny. The low autumn sun glared into his eyes, especially in the evening. Oliver lowered the sun visor. Being tall, it shielded him from the blinding light, but Daisy…
How many times had he suggested she leave the car at home? He’d gladly drive her to work and pick her up. But their schedules rarely aligned.
*”It’s sweet that you worry,”* she’d say, nestling against him. *”But I drive carefully—you know I do. I can’t live without my car.”*
*”Fine. Just promise to wear sunglasses. Rain’s coming next week, but wet roads and puddles aren’t much better than this glare. Either way, it’s risky.”*
*”You’re such a worrier. I’ll be fine—promise,”* Daisy vowed solemnly.
Oliver parked outside their terraced house and glanced up at the third-floor windows. Sunlight bounced off the glass, making it impossible to tell if the blinds were drawn. If not, the flat would be sweltering after baking all day.
Daisy’s car wasn’t there. Odd—she usually finished work an hour before him, often having dinner ready when he got home. No missed calls, no texts. He pocketed his phone, locked the car, and headed inside.
***
They’d met a year and a half ago. Oliver had spotted a stranded car on the roadside, its door open, and a petite, flustered woman beside it. A flat tyre. He pulled over to help, and soon, they were inseparable.
Daisy had rented a tiny flat—fiercely independent, stubbornly self-reliant. Yet around her, Oliver felt strong, protective. She resisted at first, insisting she didn’t need looking after. Soon, he asked her to move in. Why pay rent when she was always at his place?
His bachelor’s flat transformed under her touch. Throw blankets, colourful cushions, warm lamps—suddenly, it felt like a home. The air smelled of baking and vanilla. Then one day, she brought home a filthy, shivering puppy huddled under a bush in the rain.
*”Daisy, why? It’s dirty, probably sick. It’ll ruin the flat,”* Oliver grumbled. He’d never been fond of pets.
*”Look how sweet he is! He’ll die out there. I’ll wash him, take him to the vet tomorrow. I’ll clean up after him—promise!”* She clutched the trembling pup to her chest.
*”Leave him at the clinic, then,”* Oliver conceded, knowing further argument was pointless. The look in her eyes told him she’d walk out with the dog before abandoning it.
Daisy named him Rex. The name stuck—the pup perked up at the sound. Oliver tried calling him, but Rex ignored him, only flicking an ear.
With regular meals, Rex grew into a sturdy, medium-sized dog with a glossy ginger coat—some retriever in him, no doubt. Though Oliver played with him, Rex was Daisy’s shadow, obeying only her, trailing her everywhere. Oliver almost envied their bond.
Life settled into a comfortable rhythm. Even Rex grew on him. Children? Maybe someday, but for now, the three of them were happy.
***
Approaching their door, Oliver heard Rex whining and scratching. The moment he opened it, the dog bolted past him downstairs.
*”Easy, mate,”* Oliver muttered, locking up and following. Rex usually waited for his lead, but today, he dashed ahead, glancing back as if urging Oliver to hurry.
Oliver’s stomach twisted. Rex only ran like this towards Daisy.
They raced through their usual park, then zigzagged through backstreets. Oliver’s lungs burned. Finally, Rex stopped on a roadside, sniffing shattered glass littering the asphalt. A boy nearby peered over a fence.
*”What happened here?”* Oliver called over Rex’s barks.
*”Crash. Saw the ambulance leave, then a tow truck took the wreck.”*
*”What colour was the car?”*
*”Red, I think.”*
Oliver’s hands shook as he dialled the hospital.
*”No, I’m sorry. She didn’t make it.”*
His knees buckled. *Not Daisy. Wrong car. Call her—she’ll answer.*
The doctor led him to the morgue. He recognised her small frame, battered and bloodied, on the gurney. The world tilted. A howl tore from his throat—his own.
*”Why her?”* he choked out, slumped against the wall.
*”No chance. Sun blinded the other driver…”* The doctor’s voice faded as he walked away.
Oliver barely remembered driving home. Only then did he realise Rex was still at the crash site. He returned under dim streetlights. Rex lay on the verge, lifting his head weakly.
*”Come on, boy. Daisy’s waiting.”*
Rex hesitated but followed. At home, he paced, sniffing, whining. That night, he howled by the door until a neighbour banged on the wall.
*”Quiet. I’m hurting too,”* Oliver whispered.
Days blurred. He drank, slept fitfully, startled by phantom barks. Rex vanished after the funeral, returning days later, gaunt and filthy. He ate a little, then slept by Daisy’s slippers. By morning, he was pawing at the door again.
*”Leaving me too?”* Oliver let him out.
The flat screamed of Daisy—her things everywhere, her absence crushing. He tore through cushions, books, trinkets, but the emptiness remained.
*Why didn’t I stop her driving? Why didn’t I propose? A baby would’ve kept her home—*
Nightmares yanked him awake—claws clicking on laminate, the ghost of Daisy shifting beside him. One midnight, his feet carried him back to the crash site. A rustle. His phone light revealed Rex—emaciated, ribs heaving weakly. Oliver lay beside him on the damp grass.
He woke stiff with cold. Rex’s side was still.
Grabbing a shovel, he buried him under the bushes, leaves as a cover. Dawn broke. Filthy, tear-streaked, shovel in hand—he looked like a madman. Passers-by edged away.
At home, he poured whiskey, staring at his hollow reflection. Someone knocked. He ignored it.
Days later, under a drizzle, he wandered to a near-empty pet market. A boy held out a shivering puppy.
*”Buy ’im, mister? Dad’ll drown ’im otherwise.”*
Oliver reached for his wallet.
*”No—you don’t want him,”* the boy blurted, clutching the pup tighter.
*”I do. More than you know.”*
A worn two-pound coin changed hands.
*”His name’s Rex!”* the boy called after him.
Oliver flinched but didn’t turn.
At home, the pup promptly puddled the floor. Oliver laughed wetly.
*”No shame? Your predecessor never did that.”*
He cleaned up, fed the pup, remembering how Daisy had done it. They dozed together on the sofa.
That night, no barks haunted him. Just Daisy in his dreams, smiling. He clung to sleep, chasing the moments when she felt real again. Every evening, he closed his eyes, waiting for their reunion.
