Chapter 2

The scar on my chest started to ache again, and even breathing felt difficult.

The doctor had warned me before that emotional stress could trigger rejection in my transplanted heart.

I quickly swallowed my pills and leaned on the couch, drenched in cold sweat.

The whole house seemed to echo my uneven breathing, and my tears spilled again.

I remembered three years ago, right after the proposal in Glaciera, I came down with a high fever the next day.

Ashton stayed up all night by my side, clumsily making soup and carefully blowing on each spoonful to cool it before feeding me.

He had said, "Laura, from now on, I'm putting you first for every single minute of every day."

When he said it, his eyes were full of me. I had gotten shy and hid under the blanket, refusing to come out.

I thought back even further, to when we first met at a famous overseas cathedral that tourists often checked off their lists.

White doves scattered into the sky, and he walked straight into my camera frame.

The medication finally kicked in, and my heartbeat slowed a little.

Just as sleep started to pull me under, my phone vibrated and woke me up.

It was a message from Ashton. "Laura, my buddy just got dumped. I need to go drink with him tonight. I won't be home. You should go to bed early."

He didn't even bother to come up with a new excuse.

Last week it was a work dinner. The week before that, something about his parents.

I stared at the screen. My chest was tightening like something had grabbed hold of my heart.

At 1:00 am, the pain kept me awake.

Then, a video came from Mariah. The frame was shaky, and the bar lights dim and hazy.

Ashton was slumped in a booth, drunk and half-conscious. The camera was aimed at him.

Mariah's voice came from behind the lens. "Ashton, didn't you just say Laura is too good to you? So good it's suffocating you?"

His face was flushed, and he slurred something incomprehensible.

However, Mariah kept talking. "Actually, Laura just loves you too much. That's why she uses her life to hold on to you, Ashton. Don't be upset."

The moment she finished, the people around them burst into crude, ear-grating discussion.

"Damn, didn't expect that. She always seemed generous. Turns out she's pretty cunning."

"Using half of her life to trap someone forever? That's terrifying."

"Poor Ashton. He's been guilt-tripped for so long…"

"Yeah, poor guy."

"That kind of debt is the worst kind."

Ashton only waved a hand weakly and mumbled, "Don't say that."

He didn't say a single word in my defense.

The video cut off there.

A sharp pain tore through my chest, almost knocking me unconscious.

I bit down on my lip until it bled. The sharp sting forced a momentary flicker of clarity through the haze as I struggled to dial 911.

By the time I was discharged from the emergency room, it was already the following afternoon.

I walked out of the hospital alone, holding my medical file. I felt completely drained.

As I passed through the city center, I saw Ashton and Mariah walking out of a hotel.

Mariah's arm was naturally looped through his. Ashton looked down at her with a gentle ease I hadn't seen in a long time.

They walked straight toward a nearby cinema, like any ordinary couple.

I stood there watching until they disappeared from view.

I didn't even know how I made it back home.

The moment I pushed the door open, Ashton was sitting on the couch.

He frowned as soon as he saw me. "Where were you last night? You didn't answer my calls."

My voice came out hoarse. "Hospital. Emergency treatment."

He froze for a second, then looked slightly uneasy. "What happened? You're sick again?"

I said calmly, "I saw Mariah's video."

His tone immediately turned impatient. "What now? Mariah just speaks her mind. She meant no harm. Those people didn't know the situation anyway. Why are you making a big deal out of it?"

"She said I'm using my life to hold on to you. That's 'no harm'?"

"Then, what do you want me to do?"

He suddenly snapped, "Beat everyone up? Laura Jordan, can you grow up? She was just worried about me!"

"Worried about what?" I asked.

"Worried… Worried that I'm under too much pressure!" His face had turned red.

Silence stretched between us.

I forced myself to stay steady even as my chest clenched in pain. "Ashton, so I gave you half of my heart just so you can join the rest of them in mocking me for guilt-tripping?"

He froze. Panic flashed across his eyes. "That's not what I meant—"

"Then, what did you mean?"

My voice cracked as tears came again. "Are Mariah's tears innocent, while mine are just a way to force your hand?"

He exploded. "There you go again! Always the same story! Yes, you're noble! You saved me! So what, I'm supposed to worship you for the rest of my life? Am I not allowed to have any feelings of my own?"

He pointed at me, and his gaze was full of undisguised exhaustion and disgust.

Then, he slammed the door and left.

Ten minutes later, Mariah posted a photo of her and Ashton playing games in her living room with the caption, "With me, Ashton is always free!"

He liked it immediately.

I gazed at that profile. This was the man I had once loved for half of my life.

Yet, to him, my love and sacrifice had long turned into the burden he most wanted to escape.