Ryan hesitated for a brief moment, then stepped forward and carefully placed Diesel onto the table, moving slowly, deliberately, as if even the smallest motion might cause discomfort, and once the dog was settled, he didn’t step back, instead keeping one hand resting on Diesel’s side, his fingers pressing lightly as if grounding both of them in the moment.
Diesel’s eyes flickered open slightly, unfocused but searching, and when they found Ryan, there was still something there—recognition, trust, something that hadn’t faded despite everything else.
Dr. Hayes glanced at the medical chart in her hand before speaking.
“We’ve reviewed everything twice,” she said quietly. “His condition has progressed faster than expected. His lungs are compromised, and his body is no longer responding to treatment.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened.
