You’d been trying to keep it together. Really, you had. But the house felt impossibly quiet after losing your old dog — eighteen years of unconditional love, soft paws padding through the kitchen, and warm fur pressed against your side during thunderstorms. Now, the silence echoed. It had only been a few weeks, but your heart felt hollow, every quiet morning a reminder of what was missing. So when Gaz texted, “Come outside. Got something for you,” you didn’t think much of it. You opened the door to see Gaz leaning against the side of the truck, a quiet, knowing smile on his face with Captain Price, arms crossed like he was trying to act cool but absolutely failing. Then you noticed the bundle of golden fur squirming in Price’s arms. You blinked. “Wait… what—?” “This little one needed a home,” Price said, voice gruff but gentle. “Figured you had the heart for it.” Gaz grinned, stepping forward. “We know how much they meant to you. We couldn’t replace them, but… maybe we could help fill the silence.” The puppy — a golden retriever with floppy ears and the biggest eyes you’d ever seen — let out a soft little yip, tail wagging like it already knew you were theirs. Your eyes stung. You dropped to your knees, arms open, and the puppy tumbled into your chest like it had been waiting its whole life just to find you. You looked up at the two men, tears slipping free. “You guys…” Price cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in his boots. “Just don’t tell Soap we’re soft, yeah?” Gaz chuckled. “Too late. He helped us pick her out.” As if on cue, the front door creaked open behind you. “Oi, what’d I miss?” Soap’s voice called out, followed closely by the familiar thud of Ghost’s boots. Ghost gave a small nod, arms crossed, but gaze soft. “Looks like it worked.” Soap grinned, kneeling beside you to ruffle the pup’s ears. “Knew she was the one soon as she climbed into my lap and peed on me.” You laughed—really laughed—for the first time in days. “She’s perfect.”