My wife, who was eight months pregnant, went out to walk the dog and got into a car accident. The impact wasn’t severe, but the shock caused her water to break. Panicked, I immediately called an ambulance.
When the paramedics arrived, they moved swiftly, preparing to put my wife on a stretcher. Before they could lift her, I stepped forward and stopped them.
“You’ve misunderstood. I called the ambulance for the dog. Hurry up and take it to the pet hospital—there’s no time to waste!”
For a moment, silence filled the air. The paramedics, the onlookers—everyone was stunned. My wife, lying on the ground, stared at me in disbelief before tears welled up in her eyes.
“So, to you, our child and I… we’re less important than the dog?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Without hesitation, I answered, “Yes.”
——
A paramedic, clearly taken aback, tried to reason with me. “Sir, please don’t joke around. Even though we’re a private ambulance service, saving human lives is still our priority.”
I barely spared him a glance. My focus remained on my dog, Duke, who lay on the pavement, whimpering in pain. His body trembled slightly, his breathing uneven. Anxiety clawed at my chest.
“A life is a life—doesn’t a dog’s life count too?” I snapped, my frustration mounting. “Duke has been with me for eight years. He’s family to me! If you don’t save him today, I won’t let this go!”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd gathered around us. The expressions on their faces shifted from curiosity to disgust.
“What the hell? His wife’s water just broke and he doesn’t even care? He’s only worried about the dog?”
“I have a dog too, but no matter how much I love it, I would never ignore my wife and child. This guy must be crazy!”
“Poor woman… She’s married a heartless bastard!”
I ignored the whispered accusations and carefully placed Duke onto the stretcher, making sure he was as comfortable as possible. His fur was damp with sweat, his whimpers soft but pained. My heart twisted.
“Stop standing there! I called you here and I’ve already paid. Hurry up and take Duke to the pet hospital!” I urged the paramedics.
They hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances before shifting their gaze to my wife. She was still sitting weakly on the ground, her face drained of color, her hands gripping her belly. Amniotic fluid pooled beneath her, soaking the fabric of her dress. One of the paramedics opened his mouth, likely to persuade me again, but before he could, my wife let out a slow breath and spoke.
“Save Duke first. I’ll call another ambulance for myself.” Her voice was weak, yet steady.
I turned to look at her. Despite her obvious pain, she gazed at me with quiet understanding, her dark eyes shimmering with restrained sorrow.
“If anything happens to Duke, my husband will be devastated,” she murmured.
A faint, wry smile touched her lips, as if she had long accepted her place in my heart.
My wife’s words left the crowd stunned. Even as she sat there, pale and trembling, she still chose to put me first. Some of the onlookers looked at her with admiration, others with deep sympathy.
I ignored them all and turned to the paramedics again. “Did you hear that? My wife already agreed. Now hurry up and drive! If you delay any longer, Duke will be in danger!”
The paramedics hesitated for a fraction of a second before finally complying. The ambulance doors shut and with the wail of sirens, we sped off toward the pet hospital. I sat next to Duke, stroking his fur gently as he lay still on the stretcher. His breathing was faint but steady.
At the hospital, the veterinary team wasted no time, rushing Duke into surgery. I paced outside the operating room, my chest tight with anxiety and every second felt like an eternity.
Then, my phone rang. It was my mother.
“Damian! Wanda’s delivered a baby boy, but his condition is concerning. You need to come right away!” Her voice was frantic, thick with worry.
I gripped the phone, my mind struggling to process her words. “Mom, Duke is still in surgery. His condition is unstable—I can’t leave right now.”
There was a long, heavy silence before my mother’s voice erupted in fury.
“Damian, that’s your own son!” Her sharp tone made me flinch. “Do you even realize how dangerous it was for Wanda when her water broke? The doctors said if she had arrived even a second later, both she and the baby could’ve died!”
My mother’s voice cracked with emotion, but I couldn’t respond. I stared at the door of the operating room, waiting for any sign of Duke’s condition.
“If it weren’t for Wanda constantly defending you, telling me not to blame you, I would’ve beaten you to death myself, you ungrateful bastard!” she shouted, her words laced with raw anger.
My mother had always been a gentle woman, rarely raising her voice. This was the first time I had ever heard such venom in her tone. And yet, her anger barely registered in my mind.
My focus remained on Duke. The operating room door finally swung open and the pet doctor stepped out.
I gripped my phone tighter and said quickly, “Mom, I can’t talk now. Duke’s surgery is over—I have to take care of him.”
I didn’t wait for a reply, the line went dead as I jammed my phone into my pocket and surged towards the operating room doors.
“Doctor,” I rasped, “how’s Duke? Is he going to be alright?”
The doctor placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, his touch surprisingly firm. “He’s alright. We were able to stabilize him. Duke was brought in just in time. He’s out of immediate danger, but we’ll need to keep him under observation for the next twenty-four hours.”
A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank you, Doctor,” I breathed, “Thank you. That’s all that matters.”
The buzz of my phone interrupted the quiet moment. It was my father. I answered, already bracing for the inevitable.
“Damian!” His voice boomed in the sterile hallway. “Your son is in critical condition! How can you be not at his side? Get to the hospital, now!”
His voice was deafening, filled with an authority that left no room for refusal. It was clear he had reached the limits of his patience with me.
However, without a second thought, I replied, “Dad, Duke needs me. I can’t leave.”
Hearing this, my dad became even angrier. His voice, usually steady, shook with barely contained rage.
“You’re saying Duke is more important than your wife and child?”
He let out a bitter laugh before continuing. “Damian, Wanda is the woman you chased from high school to college, the woman you struggled to win over and marry. On your wedding day, in front of all our family and friends, you swore you’d never let her suffer even a bit of harm.”
His words stabbed at something deep inside me, but he didn’t stop there.
“And even Duke—he was a stray dog Wanda rescued eight years ago. The only reason you love him so much is because of her! So why is it that your love for Duke hasn’t changed, but your love for Wanda has?”
Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over, rolling uncontrollably down my cheeks. My father’s words pierced through my defenses like a blade, cutting straight to the truth I didn’t want to face.
I wiped my face roughly and replied in a low voice, “Dad, that’s all in the past.”
My throat felt tight and my voice came out hoarse. “Duke still needs me. That’s all there is to it.”
After speaking, I hung up the phone and turned it off, refusing to listen to anything more. The weight of my father’s disappointment pressed heavily on my chest, but I pushed it aside. I stayed by Duke’s side without moving an inch.
Time crawled by, each second dragging as I waited anxiously for him to wake up. The walls of the pet hospital felt suffocating, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave.
Eventually, Duke regained consciousness.
The moment his big eyes met mine and his tail gave the faintest wag, a lump formed in my throat. I gently stroked his fur, whispering words of reassurance.
The next day, after checking Duke’s condition and confirming he was stable, the doctor discharged him. I carried him carefully, cradling him in my arms like a fragile treasure.
But as soon as I stepped out of the pet hospital, chaos erupted.
A crowd rushed toward me, their faces twisted with anger and disgust.
“Look, everyone! This is the jerk who’s been all over the internet—the guy who chose his dog over his wife!”
“Imagine! His pregnant wife got into an accident and her water broke, but he took the ambulance just to save his dog!”
“His wife suffered severe injuries and their premature baby is in critical condition. Both of them were fighting for survival in the hospital and he didn’t even care! He spends the entire night at a pet hospital, coddling a dog!”
The accusations came like daggers, each one sharper than the last.
“Don’t forget his face, people! If you see this scum, don’t hesitate! Beat him up if you can. And if you can’t, make sure he knows exactly what you think of him!”
They held up their phones, live streaming and recording videos, their expressions filled with outrage and hatred toward me. Camera flashes flickered, illuminating the contempt in their eyes.
The commotion quickly drew even more onlookers. As the full story spread among the crowd, their gazes turned sharp with judgment. Some whispered among themselves, shaking their heads, while others openly glared at me as if I were the most repulsive person.
Meanwhile, the livestream’s comment section exploded with fury. Messages flooded in, condemning me in the harshest terms imaginable.
It was only then that I realized—everything I had done yesterday had been caught on camera, recorded by bystanders and uploaded online.
Overnight, the video had gone viral. And in a matter of hours, I had become the most hated man on the internet.
The crowd surrounding me wasn’t just made up of random people—some were influencers who had come specifically to attack me.
One of them spoke in a loud, deliberate voice. “In yesterday’s video, your conversation with your wife has sparked a huge debate. Many believe the footage might’ve been edited to make you look bad.”
He took a step closer, his expression full of mockery. “So now, in front of us, can you answer honestly—do you really think your dog is more important than your wife and child?”
The world seemed to pause for a moment as countless phones and cameras recorded my every move.
I didn’t hesitate. I met his gaze and said, “Yes.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd, quickly followed by an explosion of outrage.
“Damn! If I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t believe someone could be so heartless.”
“If you love your dog so much, just spend your life with it! Why did you even bother get married and ruin someone else’s life?!”
“Exactly! Why wasn’t it you in that car accident instead? Scum like you don’t deserve to live!”
The streamers had gotten what they wanted. My answer had poured gasoline on the fire. The mob’s voices rose in a deafening chorus of insults. Some even looked like they wanted to rush at me and beat me up right then and there.
Amidst the verbal onslaught, movement in the crowd caught my eye. My parents appeared, pushing Wanda in a wheelchair.
Wanda’s face was deathly pale, her once vibrant features drained of all color. She looked frail, slumped weakly in the chair.
And then, to my shock, she smiled at me.
It was faint, barely there, but her eyes shone with something soft. Concern.
“Honey, are you okay?”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with exhaustion, yet all she cared about was me.
I stared at her, shaking my head in response but didn’t say a word.
Seeing my reaction, my father suddenly stepped forward, his face dark with fury.
“Damian,” he said coldly, “your mother and I spent the whole night trying to figure out why you’re suddenly treating Wanda like this.”
“We thought—maybe you had some kind of misunderstanding about her and the baby. Maybe there was a reason for all of this insanity.”
His gaze bore into me, sharp and accusing. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded document.
“So, we rushed to get a paternity test done.”
The words slammed into me like a hammer.
“Wanda’s child is indeed yours!” he roared. “You bastard, how could you abandon them for a damn dog?!”
As he spoke, my father shoved the paternity test results toward me.
I didn’t even glance at them. Instead, I let out a faint “Oh” and said nothing more.
My mother’s brows knitted together as she exhaled sharply. Her voice was firm yet restrained.
“Damian, Wanda saw the livestream of you being attacked online. She was so worried about you that she rushed over here despite her condition. Even the doctors couldn’t stop her.”
“She always puts you first. You can’t keep hurting her like this.”
“Be reasonable. Apologize to her and admit you were wrong.”
I gently stroked Duke in my arms, feeling the steady rise and fall of its body. My fingers curled slightly as I answered with quiet conviction.
“I only wanted to save my dog. What did I do wrong?”
Smack!
A sharp, burning pain exploded across my cheek.
My father had slapped me—hard.
“You ungrateful bastard!” he roared, his voice raw with fury. “You abandoned your pregnant wife on the road after a car accident just to save a damn dog!”
“You ignored your premature son, who is still fighting for his life in an incubator! Have you even asked about him? Have you shown even the slightest concern?!”
“And after all that, you still have the audacity to say you did nothing wrong?!”
His chest heaved with rage. His eyes—usually calm—were ablaze with an emotion I had never seen before.
That slap had landed with full force. My skin burned, a dull throb spreading from my cheekbone to my temple.
Wanda, who had been silent all this time, flinched at the sight. Her lips parted slightly before she turned to my father, her expression pained.
“Dad, don’t be mad,” she said softly. “Let’s talk this out. Don’t hit Damian.”
Her fingers clutched the edge of her dress, her frail shoulders trembling.
“He was just desperate to save Duke, but I believe—deep down—he still loves me and our son.”
Just as she finished speaking, her phone rang.
The sudden sound cut through the heavy tension like a blade.
She fumbled to answer, pressing the device to her ear. The moment she did, a strained, urgent voice came through the speaker.
“Ms. Wanda, your baby is in critical condition and needs an immediate blood transfusion!”
It was the attending doctor.
Wanda froze, her breath catching in her throat.
“He has a rare blood type—Rh-negative,” the doctor continued, his tone tight with urgency. “We can’t find a match in time!”
“Between you and the father, whoever has the matching blood type, please come to the hospital immediately. If we don’t act fast, the baby’s life will be in danger!”
A shudder passed through her thin frame.
Her grip on the phone tightened before she turned to me, her wide, desperate eyes searching my face.
“Damian,” she whispered. “You have the same blood type, don’t you?”
Her fingers reached out, latching onto my wrist as she pleaded.
“Hurry, we have to go save our son!”
I shook off Wanda’s hand without hesitation and said flatly, “I’m not going. I still have to take care of Duke.”
Wanda’s breath hitched as she stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her already pale face turned even paler and for a moment, she looked like she might collapse.
My mother, unable to contain her fury any longer, exploded. “Damian, have you lost your mind? That’s your own son!”
“Wanda got into a car accident and you ignored her. Now your son’s life is on the line and you’re just going to stand by and watch him die?”
Her voice trembled, a mixture of rage and disbelief contorting her expression.
I met her gaze with indifference. “The doctor said Duke is very weak and needs care. I have to go home and give him a nutritious meal.”
“Besides, I’m anemic. If something happens to me after donating blood, what will happen to Duke?”
Silence fell over the crowd.
Wanda’s lips quivered, a failed attempt to vocalize the thoughts swirling within her. Her hands trembled at her sides before she slowly lowered her gaze.
Then, with great effort, she pushed herself out of her wheelchair. Her legs were shaky, but she forced herself to kneel before me.
“Damian…” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
She clutched the hem of my sleeve. Tears pooled in her eyes as she choked out, “We’ve been together for so many years and I’ve never asked you for anything.”
“I don’t care how you treat me, but our child is innocent.”
“I’m begging you, please save him. He’s just been born—he hasn’t even seen the world yet.”
Her voice was hoarse and full of desperation, her entire being trembling as she clung to me.
But I remained unmoved.
“If you want to save him, then do it yourself,” I said calmly. “I need to take care of Duke. I don’t have time to go to the hospital.”
As soon as I turned to leave, my father grabbed my arm in a tight grip, his fingers digging into my flesh. His body shook with rage.
“You beast!” he bellowed. “Are you really going to let your own child die just for a dog?”
My mother was no better. Her hands clenched into fists as she trembled in anger, her eyes red with unshed tears.
“Damian, you’ve completely disappointed me!” she shouted.
“From today onward, we’re cutting all ties. I have no son as cold-blooded and heartless as you!”
The moment her words fell, the crowd erupted.
The livestream chat exploded in fury, filling the screen with an endless flood of comments.
[I thought ignoring his wife to save a dog was already the lowest a person could go, but now he won’t even save his son just because he wants to take care of a dog? Is he even human?]
[This is disgusting. He can spend an entire night in a pet hospital with a dog, but he refuses to take a little time to go to the hospital and donate blood to save his son. He’s worse than an animal!]
[I’m so furious. A person like this doesn’t deserve to live, let alone have a wife and child!]
[I really hope karma gets him and he drops dead on the spot!]
The crowd grew even more enraged. Vicious insults and curses rained down on me, their voices brimming with contempt and fury. Some, driven by their emotions, began throwing trash in my direction. Plastic bottles, paper scraps and bits of food pelted me, while others spat at my feet, their faces twisted with disgust.
The way they looked at me—it was as if I wasn’t even human, as if I were the filth they were so desperate to trample beneath their feet.
Just as I was drowning in this storm of garbage and verbal abuse, a cold, sharp voice suddenly rang out.
“None of you have the right to judge him.”
The atmosphere shifted in an instant. The shouting faltered and the crowd turned toward the source of the voice.
I looked at the woman who had spoken and smiled.
Finally. The real show was about to begin.
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