Chapter 3

Cindy said, "Okay. I'll stay with you a few more days."

Tristan watched her sit back down before he slowly closed his eyes. Down in the morgue, an orderly stared at my body, unsure of what to do.

"It's been two days, and nobody's come to claim him. What are we supposed to do?"

Another orderly was tidying up nearby. "What are you staring at? Finish up so we can clock out."

The two of them stuffed my body into a bag together.

"Look at him. Dying like that, all cut open. He probably wasn't a good person."

"Good, bad, it doesn't matter. Everyone looks the same after they're cremated."

"True. It's still a shame, though. He was so young."

Two more days passed. Once Cindy saw that Tristan was recovering well, she finally remembered to see me. She walked into my room and found it empty. A nurse was changing the sheets.

"Where's the patient from this bed?"

The nurse looked up. When she saw that it was Cindy, she replied, "He's no longer staying in the hospital."

That irritated her. I'd just had surgery, and instead of staying in the hospital to recover, I'd taken off somewhere. She pulled out her phone and dialed my number, but the call wouldn't go through.

"Fine. Go ahead and drop dead out there for all I care."

She stormed back to Tristan's room. He picked up on her anger right away.

"Is Hayden upset? He won't forgive you?

"This is all my fault. Let me go talk to him so you two don't end up fighting because of me."

He tried to get out of bed, and Cindy stopped him immediately. "Don't worry about him. All you need to focus on right now is getting better.

"When you're discharged, and your parents hear the good news, they'll be so happy. As for Hayden, he's fine. He already left the hospital."

But the memory of how I'd begged her before the surgery still nagged at her. She couldn't understand why I would refuse to save my own brother. Seeing Tristan continue to think of me and worry about me even from his hospital bed only made her think less of me by comparison.

She figured that if I was stubborn enough to leave the hospital on my own, I could cool off for a while. She'd deal with me when Tristan was ready to be discharged.

In the doctors' office, her colleagues were laughing and chatting, but the moment Cindy walked in, everyone went quiet.

She found it strange. "What were you all just talking about?"

Nobody answered. After a long pause, one colleague came over and put an arm around her shoulder. "What do you think? We were just saying how sweet you and your husband are together."

Cindy thought of how I'd been forced into donating my heart. She supposed I really did love her deeply. It was coerced, sure, but I'd still done it. I'd helped her and saved a life.

Thinking about it that way, she was willing to forgive me for disappearing, but the fact that I wasn't picking up her calls still made her angry.

Her colleague noticed the frustration on her face and asked, "Is your husband in a bad mood?"

Cindy didn't answer.

"He just had surgery. It's normal for him to be upset," her colleague continued. "Give him some time. Be a little understanding. How about you do something nice for him?"

That seemed to help. Cindy's expression softened. She remembered how much I loved the pastries from the bakery near our apartment, so she decided to stop by on her way home after work.

She arrived at our apartment carrying the box of pastries. "Honey? I got you those pastries you like."

But nobody answered.

She set the box down and noticed the divorce papers I'd left on the table a week ago. The moment I found out she wanted me to give up my heart, I'd already made my decision.