Hours crept by. Midnight came. The building sank into silence.
At last, the door opened. The veterinarian appeared, weary but resolute.
“He’s stable,” she said. “His fever is dropping, his heart is steady. The next hours are critical, but he’s fighting.”
Artem’s shoulders sagged, tears running freely now. “Thank you… thank you for not giving up.”
“He’s not ready to go,” she whispered. “And you’re not ready to let him go.”
Two hours later, the vet returned with a smile. “Come. He’s waiting for you.”
Artem stepped into the room, legs trembling. On a clean white blanket lay Leo, an IV in his paw, his eyes clear once more. At the sight of his master, his tail tapped weakly but firmly against the table. Once. Twice. “I’m here. I’m staying.”
