He approached slowly, deliberately, and dropped something at her feet.
A dead bird.
Nimisha stared at it for a long moment, then looked at the dog. "Is this... a gift?"
Bruno's expression—if dogs could have expressions—radiated pride.
I'm a hunter. This is how we show affection.
"I appreciate the thought, Boo, but maybe next time... flowers?" She carefully picked up the bird using tissues and set it aside to dispose of later. "Dead things aren't really my style."
Bruno huffed, clearly indignant that his offering wasn't properly appreciated.
"Don't be offended," she said, scratching behind his ears. "It's the thought that counts."
She settled back into her window seat, and Bruno positioned himself at her feet, his massive head resting on her thigh.
This had become their routine. Their secret.
Flashback - Three Months Into Marriage
The gardens were dark, the estate quiet except for the distant sounds of traffic beyond the walls. Nimisha sat on a stonebench near the fountain, her face in her hands, finally allowing herself to cry.
Three months of marriage. Three months of being invisible, unwanted, tolerated.
Three months of sleeping beside a man who touched her body but refused to touch her heart.
She didn't hear the approach of footsteps—paws, rather. Didn't realize she had company until a warm, heavy presence settled beside her on the bench.
She looked up, startled, to find Bruno sitting there.
The demon dog. The killing machine. Samarth's most loyal companion.
He didn't try to comfort her. Didn't nuzzle or lick away her tears like dogs in movies did. He simply sat there, solid and warm, his dark eyes fixed on some point in the distance.
But he stayed.
"You can go," she'd whispered, wiping at her tears. "I'm fine."
Bruno didn't move.
"I'm just having a moment. Everyone's entitled to break down occasionally, right?"
No response. Just patient, unwavering presence.
She started talking then. About the loneliness. About feeling like a ghost in her own home. About loving a man who saw her as an obligation.
Bruno listened. Didn't judge. Didn't offer platitudes or false comfort.
Just listened.
When she finally ran out of words, he stood and walked away without a backward glance.
But the next night, when she couldn't sleep and ventured into the gardens again, he appeared.
And the night after that.
A routine formed in silence and shadows.
