My father knew perfectly well that I had been afraid of dogs since childhood and had never managed to get used to them.

I left the notary’s office in a daze. One thought kept echoing in my mind: “Why? What did I do? Was I a bad daughter? Didn’t he love me?” My brother and sister kept exchanging glances — too satisfied, too calm.

Months passed. I fulfilled my father’s last wish — I took care of his dog, even though I still felt uncomfortable.

The dog was surprisingly quiet, obedient, and affectionate, as if he understood everything I was going through. But I couldn’t love him… until one day everything changed.