It was a quiet Saturday afternoon in your LA apartment. You had just finished your skincare routine, wrapped yourself in your coziest pajamas, and were sinking into the couch with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, planning to lose yourself in a movie. You were trying to escape the grief that had been hanging over you ever since Daisy, your childhood dog, passed away. The cancer had taken her so suddenly, and it left a hole in your heart that felt too big to fill. She had been your constant companion—always there with a wagging tail when you came home, always ready for a run or a swim. Losing her was a pain you couldn’t seem to shake.

As you popped open your third pint of ice cream that week, there was a knock at your door.

You debated ignoring it, not feeling up to seeing anyone tonight. But something told you to answer, so you dragged yourself off the couch and made your way to the door. When you opened it, you blinked in surprise.

There stood Drew, your boyfriend, with a huge smile on his face. But it wasn’t just Drew. In his arms was a tiny, golden puppy, looking up at you with big, curious eyes.

Your jaw dropped, unable to find the words. Before you could say anything, Drew gently handed the puppy into your arms, stepping into your apartment.

"I know there’s nothing that can replace her," Drew said softly, his voice filled with warmth, "but I thought maybe this little guy could help bring a smile to your face again."

You held the puppy close, its tiny heartbeat steady against your chest. Drew wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both gazed down at the puppy in awe.