The house smelled faintly of cedar and time. It creaked in the wind, like it was stretching its old bones, learning to breathe again after years of silence. For the first time in months, Maggie saw Ethan laugh without forcing it.
It started on their second morning. Maggie was unpacking boxes when she heard scratching at the door. She opened it to find a husky sitting there, head slightly tilted, as if he’d been waiting. His fur was silvered with age, his blue eyes bright but full of something… heavy.
He didn’t bark. Didn’t move. Just waited.
Ethan ran forward instantly. “Mom, look! He’s beautiful!”
The dog stayed every morning after that. Rain or shine, he appeared right at the door at 7 a.m. He’d wag his tail when Ethan came out, follow him to the edge of the yard, then disappear into the woods by dusk.
By the end of the week, he had a bowl on the porch, a blanket by the door, and a name — Blue.
But one afternoon, while Ethan was brushing Blue’s fur, he noticed something odd. Scratched faintly into the worn leather collar were the words: “Christopher Jr.”
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