Chapter 4: The Night I Needed You Most

Finally, at dawn, I woke from a nightmare, and faint, broken cries for help—so soft they were barely more than a mosquito’s buzz—reached my ears.

I bolted upright, heart hammering. It took me a moment to realize the sound wasn’t just in my dream.

I jumped out of bed and rushed barefoot to Muffin’s little bed. I found her with her mouth open, gasping for air, each breath a struggle.

My hands shook as I scooped her up, whispering her name over and over. Her tiny chest rose and fell, each gasp weaker than the last.

I gently pried her mouth open, carefully lifted her head, and started pressing on her chest.

I’d watched enough YouTube videos to know the basics of pet CPR, but I’d never thought I’d have to use it. Tears streamed down my face as I counted compressions, praying she’d hold on.

Seeing her so fragile, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

I felt so helpless, so useless. I kept talking to her, promising her treats, begging her not to give up.

I rushed Muffin to the nearest animal hospital. As fast as I could.

I threw on the first clothes I could find, wrapped her in a towel, and ran to the car. The drive was a blur of red lights and desperate prayers.

The vet looked grave. "She’s in really bad shape. Plus, she was a stray with a genetic illness to begin with."

He spoke gently, but the words hit like a punch. I nodded, biting my lip, trying not to break down in front of the receptionist.

I sat alone outside the operating room, my mind a tangled mess. I picked up my phone and called Miles.

The waiting room was cold, the plastic chairs hard and unforgiving. I stared at the wall, phone pressed to my ear, hoping he’d answer.

The first time, he didn’t answer. I called again and again, and finally, he picked up.

My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone. When he finally picked up, relief and anger crashed together inside me.

I gripped my phone tightly, trying to keep my voice steady. "Miles, come to the hospital. Muffin’s sick."

I tried to sound calm, but my voice cracked on her name. I needed him. Just this once, I needed him to show up for me.

On the other end, Jamie’s voice was hoarse. “Cass, Miles just fell asleep. Is it really urgent? If it is, I’ll wake him up.”

Her voice was thick with sleep, but I could hear the satisfaction underneath. She knew exactly what she was doing.

She continued, “He’s really tired today. If it’s not something major, let him sleep a little longer. You’ll see him later anyway, right?”

The words twisted in my gut. I wanted to scream, to reach through the phone and shake her. Instead, I just pressed end.

I didn’t say anything—just hung up.

The call log stared back at me, a silent accusation. I stared at the wall, willing myself not to cry.

Luckily, Muffin pulled through the first critical day.

The vet smiled when he told me. I nearly collapsed with relief, whispering a thank you to whoever was listening.

I hadn’t eaten all day. I ordered a bowl of chicken noodle soup for delivery, but the place must’ve forgotten the salt—it was completely flavorless.

I slurped the lukewarm broth, barely tasting it. The noodles stuck in my throat. Even comfort food couldn’t fill the emptiness inside me. I stared out the window, rain tapping against the glass, wondering when—or if—things would ever feel right again.

I didn’t know it yet, but something in me had already let go.