I knew Before You Did

The first time I smelled it, I froze. It was buried deep, hidden beneath the warmth of your skin, the coffee on your breath, the soap from your morning shower. But it was there. A sharpness. A wrongness. A shadow I could not chase away.

I pressed my nose into your chest, breathing you in, searching for the man I loved. Your heartbeat was steady, your voice still strong. You laughed when I nudged you, thinking I only wanted attention. But I knew. My soul knew. Something had already begun.

Day by day, the scent grew heavier. Food no longer called to you. Your clothes hung loose, your eyes lost their spark. You spent more time lying down, and I spent more time pressed against you, hoping the warmth of my body could keep you anchored here. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to warn you. But I had no words, only my presence.

Then the morning came when strangers rushed in, carrying you away in a bed with wheels, red lights painting the walls as they closed the door on me. I barked until my chest ached. I clawed the floor, begging them to let me follow. The house was hollow without you. I laid in your chair, nose to the fabric, breathing in what little scent of you still clung there.

When you finally returned, I ran to you, but stopped. You were my master, yet you looked like a shadow of yourself. The scent I had followed for months now filled the air around you, thick and bitter, like iron and ash. I wanted to cry out, but all I could do was lean into you, press my head against your trembling hand, and let you know I was here. Always here.

I followed you from room to room. I watched over you when you slept, listening to the rattle in your chest. I licked the tears you thought I didn’t see. The smell changed then. It was no longer only sickness. It was softer now, like rain falling on dry earth. Like a door opening. Like something calling you home.

And then, in the quiet of morning, your chest rose once, twice… and stilled. The bitter smell that had haunted me was gone. In its place was something vast and holy. I pressed my nose against your hand, cold now, empty of you, but I felt you all around me.

I knew then. My duty was never to save you. My duty was to stay with you. To walk you as far as I could along the path. To keep watch at the edge until you stepped beyond my reach.

So I stayed. I stay still. Because love does not end when breath does. And when it is my time, I will find you by scent alone.