Three days later, I returned to my mother’s house to get my things.
My mother said:

“It’s strange, Max hasn’t eaten for days. He just lies there looking out the gate, as if waiting for someone.”

I bent down to pet him. Max licked my hand lightly – right where I was wearing my wedding ring – and then moaned softly.
I saw a dark brown stain on my hand, a strange fishy smell.

My intuition told me something was wrong.

I remembered: on the wedding day, after being bitten, Mark immediately ran into the room to change his shoes, not letting anyone touch the wound.

I opened his closet in the apartment and found the suitcase he always carried.

Inside, among the expensive suits, was a small plastic bag with dried blood on it, containing white powder.

I was stunned.

At that moment, Mark’s phone rang.