Dear Ex-wife Marry Me

After the lawyer left, she found herself staring blankly out the window, her thoughts suddenly drifting

home to Ozzy.

She always made sure to leave plenty of kibble for Ozzy whenever she stepped out, but now she had

been hospitalized for four days.

Panic set in, and she quickly got out of bed, determined to check out and head home to see her furry

friend.

But the moment her feet touched the floor, the room spun wildly.

With no other choice, she grabbed her phone and called Elvis.

“Elvis, can you swing by my place and check on Ozzy? He should have enough food, but I haven't

been home in days.”

“I'll head over right now,” he assured her.

Her heart softened at his response, and on impulse, she asked, “Could you bring him over this

afternoon? I really need to see him.”

“Of course.”

Only then did she feel truly at ease.

True to his word, Elvis brought Ozzy to her in the afternoon.

Ozzy was a little bundle no bigger than a forearm and had to be carried.

The moment Zoey laid eyes on him, her complexion brightened considerably.

“Thanks,” she said as she took Ozzy into her arms from Elvis.

The little grey pup was quiet, probably sensing that Zoey was unwell. It lay still in her embrace, only its

tail wagging furiously.

Zoey stroked its head gently, then gave it a little nuzzle.

“Is there still food left at home?”

Elvis set down a fruit basket and took a seat. “There’s plenty. I topped it off.”

“Thank you.”

She held Ozzy close, leaning back against the headboard.

Ozzy had all his shots, but Zoey didn't want him catching anything, especially not from the hospital.

She asked Elvis, her concern evident.

“When can I get out of here? I feel fine, really. I’d rather recover at home and look after Ozzy too. It’s so

dull here.”

Elvis frowned, clearly worried. “You need to rest properly.”

“It’s the same at home, and I'm more comfortable there,” she insisted.

Seeing that he couldn't dissuade her, Elvis went to negotiate with the doctors. From NôvelDrama.Org.

Initially reluctant, the doctor eventually prescribed a pair of crutches for Zoey.

Elvis, with Ozzy in his arms, and Zoey, hobbling on crutches, made their way to the elevator together.

As they reached the ground floor and the elevator doors slid open, she saw Wendy and Fitch standing

outside.

Wendy was there for a follow-up appointment and hadn't expected to run into Zoey.

Zoey, gripping her crutches, moved awkwardly, ignoring Fitch as she shuffled past him, staying close to

Elvis.

Fitch, having learned from the lawyer that she was hospitalized with what he thought was just a

common cold, was now concerned by her apparent severity.

He stepped into the elevator, stealing one last glance at her retreating figure.

She was limping, pausing every few steps to rest, clearly in pain.

Wendy clutched his arm, “Fitch, what are you looking at?”

Fitch turned away, pressing the elevator button with a calm facade.

Her voice trailed off, her hand tightening into a fist at her side.

He nodded, suddenly craving a smoke.

By some twist of fate, Zoey was just passing beneath his window.

She moved slowly, the man with the puppy pausing to wait for her, asking her something with care.

She looked up to speak to him and then reached up to pat Ozzy's head. Reąd at Drąmаոоvеls.com

Fitch remembered the puppy's name, Ozzy, something they had chosen together.

An odd feeling washed over him, akin to seeing his child accept someone else as a father.

Flicking ash from his cigarette, he watched as Zoey handed her crutches to the man.

The man carefully helped her into the car, where Ozzy sat quietly in her lap, licking her hand and

making her smile.

Fitch didn't want to care, but his gaze seemed glued to the scene.

By the time he snapped out of it, the car was gone.