Hours passed. When she peeked in again, they were still nestled together—Ritchie’s head resting near the man’s neck, their breathing quiet and synced. She smiled and closed the door without a sound.
Too silent.
The monitor showed a steady line.
“Sir?” she asked gently as she approached. But then she saw it.
Ritchie hadn’t stirred. He lay across the man’s chest, nose pressed to the man’s shoulder, eyes closed. She checked for a heartbeat—there was none.
The man had passed peacefully in his sleep. And the dog’s heart, somehow, had followed.
She covered her mouth in shock. Staff rushed in. Even the physician who had hesitated about the visit stopped short at the doorway, stunned.
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