The Heart That Was Never Mine

I gripped the test report tightly, my fingers trembling as I scanned the results again. The numbers didn't lie. The donor's profile-Nathaniel' heart-didn't match.

The door creaked open.

I shoved the paper into my pocket just as Nathaniel stormed in. His eyes were sharp, his movements brisk.

"Come with me." His fingers clamped around my wrist, his grip unrelenting.

"What? Where-"

He didn't answer. He just pulled me along, dragging me down the hall, out the door.

The car door slammed shut behind me. The engine roared as he floored the gas pedal, sAt the altar, when I reached for his hand, he barely touched mine

I stood beside him in white, smiling for the cameras. He stood like a statue-cold, indifferent.

At the altar, when I reached for his hand, he barely touched mine.

On our wedding night, he sat on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as if preparing for an execution rather than a honeymoon. I moved closer, but he pulled his hand away instantly. "Sleep," he said.

The one person who could make him lose control was her, of course.

Minutes later, we pulled into the hospital.

"Freya had an accident," Nathaniel explained in a hurry, not looking at me. "She's in urgent need of a bone marrow donor, and you're a match."

Before I could process his words, a nurse grabbed my arm, already pulling me forward.

"Wait," I dug my heels in, turning to Nathaniel. "I'll do it. But I need you to answer something first."

His brows furrowed. "Not now."

"Now," I insisted, my voice steady.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "If this is about Freya-"

"It's not," I cut him off.

I didn't care about his relationship with Freya. After all, I never loved him.

I had loved only one person in my life, the one who died saving me in an accident. After his death, his heart was donated, and I, desperate to feel his heartbeat again, found Nathaniel-whose heart now beat with the one I had loved.

I pursued him relentlessly, but he remained unmoved. Only after seeing a photo of his cousin Freya with her boyfriend did he grudgingly agree to marry me.

"five years ago, you had a heart transplant. The donor... What was his name?"

"Everstone," he muttered.

Everstone. A name completely unrelated to Ronan Montclair.

"Thank you," I said softly, before walking into the operating room.

The dull beeping of the monitor filled the sterile silence. I turned my head, every movement aching, and saw them-Nathaniel and Freya.

He sat by her bed, his fingers wrapped around hers, his voice low and tender. "You scared me, Freya," he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I thought I was going to lose you."

She gave him a weak smile, squeezing his hand. "You'd never lose me, Nathaniel."

Days passed.

I reached for the glass of water beside my bed, my fingers trembling from exhaustion. The moment I lifted it, it