Spotting the dog lying by the bench, she dashed over. Her gaze landed on the leash, carelessly discarded by Natasha. Seeing the pup sprawled by the bench, she hurried to it. The leash, flung aside with typical Natasha flair, caught her eye too. Max peered up at his owner with swollen eyes, whining softly.
Helen and David Robinson had barely spoken in nearly two years. Helen still couldnt fathom how a trivial spat had snowballed into such a bitter rift.
Born just a year apart, Helen and David had been inseparable since childhood, always defending each other. No matter the mischief, they shared the blame equallynever hiding behind the other.
Their hometown, Little Welling, had flourished over the years, thanks largely to its mayor, Paul Mitchell, a local lad turned shrewd economist. After finishing agricultural college, he returned and threw himself into improving the village. His efforts paid off, and within a decade, Paul was running the place.
Life treated him well personally, too. Helen, after completing her nursing course, started working at the village clinic. Paul couldnt walk past such beauty without a second glanceand Helen returned his interest. They married, with the whole village celebrating. David was genuinely happy for his sister, though his own marriage to Natasha was far less smooth.
While Helen was single, Natasha had grumbled about her, calling her useless or stuck-up. But after the wedding, envy replaced the griping. Natashas demands grewa bigger house, a nicer car, a proper fur coat.
“Everyone else has everything, and weve got nothing!” shed snap. David tried his best, but neither money nor effort could satisfy her.
Natasha had her own miseryno children, despite hoping. Meanwhile, Helen thrived: a loving husband, a son, then a daughter, a spacious house, and Pauls rising status.
Family gatherings soured into rows. Every time David visited Helen, Natasha would tear into him afterward.
The final explosion happened on Davids birthday. Helen gifted him a Labrador pupsomething hed always wanted. Paul chipped in with a new motorbike.
All went well until Natasha, well into the wine, unleashed her pent-up fury on Helen:
“Oh, very clever, Helen! A dog? Since we cant have kids, well just get a mutt, is that it?”
Helen tried to calm her: “Natasha, please. Youll regret this later.”
But it was no use. A blazing row erupted, guests taking sides. Paul whispered to Helen that they should leave, and they slipped away.
Two years passed. David began avoiding his sister, their contact dwindling to brief, awkward meetings. Tension with Natasha grew, too.
Evenings, David often walked Max by the river. They seemed contentDavid tossing sticks, Max bounding after them, then flopping at his feet, listening to quiet stories.
Helen heard about this from nosy neighbors but did nothingDavid was stubborn.
After the row, Natashas hatred for Helenand Maxdeepened. When David was out, shed chase the dog outside, shouting, sometimes hitting.
Busybodies fueled the fire:
“Natasha, your husbands down by the river with that dog again.”
“Yesterday, he bumped into Helen, Paul, and the kidslaughing like old times!”
Jealousy consumed Natasha. One day, David asked:
“Natasha, youre not hurting Max, are you?”
“As if Id bother with your stupid dog!” she snapped, storming off.
Max hid more often, trembling at her approach.
It ended one morning when David finally snapped:
“Ive had enough of this nonsense!”
Alone, seething, Natasha dragged Max outside, tied him to the bench, and lashed him with her belt. The poor dog yelped in pain. Once her rage was spent, she dropped the belt, packed her things, and left for good.
That evening, David returned to find no Max at the gate. The house was a mess. By the bench, he saw Maxhis fists clenched. He untied the dog and rushed him to the clinic.
Helen was about to leave when she spotted her brother cradling the bleeding pup:
“Helen, help” he croaked.
They carried Max to the treatment room. Helen examined him carefully:
“Who did this?”
“Natasha,” David muttered.
Helen nodded silently. She stitched his wounds, flushed his eyes, gave him water.
Later, in the hallway, David whispered, “Im sorry, Helen.”
“Dont be silly,” she said wearily. “And Natasha?”
“No, Helen. Never again.”
Helen called Paul: “Paul, love, come fetch me, please.”
Hearing her exhaustion, Paul was already on his way.
Half an hour later, he stood in the corridor. Seeing the siblings huddled together, Max whimpering softly, he just smiled:
“Right then, heroes. Lets get you home.”
They took David back, advising him on Maxs care.
When Helen told their mum what happened, she sighed:
“Shouldve left her ages ago.”
With that, she headed to her sons to help tidy up.
On the porch, David sat stroking Max. His mother approached, ruffling both their heads:
“You alive?”
“Barely,” David said.
From inside, the scent of roast and fresh herbs drifted out. Max sniffed, tail wagging. David smiled and stood.
Life went on.
