Douglas was a man whose fate broke him early. He grew up among attack dogs, between violence and his father's screams. While trying to protect a puppy, a bullet struck his spine. From that moment on, he couldn't walk again. His father died, his brother left, and he was left alone—with only the dogs and the pain.

Over time, Douglas learned to live in solitude. He lived in an old building, full of dogs he rescued from the streets and illegal breeding farms. They were his family, his only reason to get up in the morning. But every night, he thought of one person—Nika. The girl from his old days in the orphanage who read him books, talked to him, treated him like a human being.

He never forgot her for a moment.

One day, he saw her again. By chance—or so he wanted to believe. She was walking with a bag after work, tired, her eyes dull from the daily grind. The rain plastered her hair to her face. Douglas, in a wheelchair, pulled closer, his heart beating like a child's.

"Nika?"

She froze, turning around. She recognized him. Surprised, but she smiled. She offered to help him get home, as the rain was pouring down.

That's how she found herself in his world.

Douglas's house was old, but warm. Full of dogs—calm, affectionate, loyal. Nika sat on the couch, and he went to the kitchen.

"I'll make dinner. Remember how you said you liked Japanese food?" he said with a slight smile.

Nika glanced around the room.

Then she noticed a small puppy curled up by a blanket. An Australian Shepherd, multicolored, with calm, watchful eyes.

Douglas rode up to her with a pot of rice, seeing her looking at the dog.

"A boy found him. He brought him to me to save him. His leg was broken, but we made it. He's only been here a week."

"He's beautiful." Nika petted the animal, and it lifted its muzzle, licking her hand.

"He was lucky... just like me today." Douglas said quietly, not taking his eyes off her.

Nika stood up to help him in the kitchen.

They chopped vegetables together, and he taught her how to season tofu. They laughed softly, reminiscing about old times, though there was still something deeper in his eyes—something that quivered like a flame in the wind.

When dinner was ready, Douglas set the bowls, chopsticks, and sauces on the table.

He stopped beside her, his hands resting on the arms of the cart.

"Nika... all these years, I've only thought of you."

"Douglas... don't say that. It's over, we... we're grown up."

"Grown up? I never grew up, Nika. I stopped where you left me."

Silence. The dogs fell silent.

"I love you," he said suddenly. "I can't do anything else. I don't want you to leave again."

Nika lowered her gaze. "I have to work, Douglas. I have my responsibilities, my life. I can't just stay."

And then something inside him snapped.

His hands gripped the metal railings of the wheelchair. The wheels creaked. The veins in his arms stretched like wires.

"Always work. Always a world that only hurts you," he growled. "And I give you a home. Warmth. Shelter. Love."

Nika took a step back, surprised by the change in tone. The dogs raised their heads, alert, watching their master.

Douglas was breathing heavily, his eyes a mixture of despair and anger.

"I won't let you disappear again. Not this time."

Nika started to say something, but the door had already closed behind her.

The lock clicked softly.

And the dogs rose, as if waiting only for his nod.