Chapter 73: The Night of Three Hearts

The mansion was silent, save for the low hum of the heating and the occasional crackle of the fireplace in the main lounge. Leo hadn't gone back to his studio. He couldn't face the canvases. Instead, he had wandered into the library, sitting on a plush velvet sofa, staring at the embers.

He didn't hear them come in. He only realized he wasn't alone when the weight of the sofa shifted on both sides of him. Ivan sat to his left, and Dmitri to his right. They didn't say anything at first. They just sat there, flanking him, their presence heavy and warm in the dimly lit room.

"You’re still thinking about the phone call," Dmitri said. His voice was unusually soft, lacking its usual sharp edge.

Leo leaned his head back against the cushions. "How can I not? You guys cut me off from the world. It’s like I don’t exist anymore."

"We didn't do it to be cruel, Leo," Ivan murmured. He reached out, his fingers brushing against Leo’s sleeve. "We did it because we know what it’s like to have the world try to pull you apart. We know the cost of being separated."

Leo looked at Ivan, then at Dmitri. "You two are never apart. Not really. Even when you’re in different rooms, it’s like you’re thinking the same thing."

Dmitri let out a short, dry laugh. "It’s more than thinking, Leo. It’s deeper than that. Do you know why we don't like crowds? Why we prefer this big, empty house?"

"Because you're rich and private?" Leo guessed.

"Because it’s loud," Dmitri said, pointing to his chest. "Not out there. In here. When Ivan is hurt, I feel the sting. When his heart races, mine hammers against my ribs to keep up. We don't just share a name. We share a pulse."

Leo frowned, looking between them. "You mean... like twin telepathy? I thought that was just a myth."

"It’s not a story to us," Ivan said. He took Leo’s hand and placed it firmly over his own heart. "Feel that?"

Leo felt the steady, rhythmic thud under Ivan’s shirt. Then, Dmitri grabbed Leo’s other hand and pressed it against his own chest.

Leo froze. His breath caught in his throat. The two heartbeats were perfectly in sync. It wasn't just close; it was identical. Every beat, every slight pause, every surge happened at exactly the same microsecond. It was like feeling one heart beating in two different bodies.

"It’s been like this since we were born," Ivan explained, his eyes fixed on Leo’s. "When we were children, if Dmitri fell and scraped his knee, I would cry because my own knee would burn. If I was sick with a fever, Dmitri would shiver in his bed, cold to the bone. We are two halves of a single life."

"That sounds... terrifying," Leo whispered. "To never have a moment to yourself. To always feel someone else's pain."

"It is a burden," Dmitri admitted, his voice rough. "There are days when I want to scream just to see if I can hear my own voice over his. But then there are the other days. When the world is cold and everyone is lying to us, I feel his warmth. I know I’m not alone because I can feel him breathing right next to my soul."

Leo pulled his hands back, his palms still tingling from the heat of their chests. "Is that why you brought me here? To be a part of... whatever this is?"

Ivan leaned closer, his shoulder pressing against Leo’s. "We spent our whole lives feeling only each other. It was a closed loop. A circle that no one could enter. But then we saw you at that gallery. We saw your art, and for the first time, we both felt something new. At the same time."

"A third beat," Dmitri added. He reached over and touched the pulse point on Leo’s neck. "When you’re happy, we feel a lightness we’ve never known. When you’re sad, like you were today... it feels like a weight is pulling on both of us. We aren't just keeping you here to paint, Leo. We’re keeping you here because you’re the first person who made the pulse change."

Leo felt a wave of dizziness. He looked at the fire, the orange light dancing in the twins' identical eyes. "You talk like I'm a part of you. But I'm a person, not a symptom. I have my own life. I have Chloe—or I did."

"Chloe couldn't feel your heart," Ivan said gently. "She could listen to you speak, she could look at your face, but she was always on the outside. We are on the inside, Leo. We feel the tremor in your hands before you even realize you're nervous."

"It’s too much," Leo said, his voice cracking. "I can't be what you want. I'm just a guy from a small town. I'm not a 'third heart'. I'm just me."

Dmitri leaned his head against Leo’s shoulder, a rare gesture of complete vulnerability. "You don't have a choice in what you are to us. You already changed the rhythm. If you left... if you really disappeared... I think the silence in our chests would kill us."

Leo sat there, pinned between them, feeling the terrifying weight of their devotion. He realized then that they weren't business partners, and they weren't just eccentric patrons. They were two men who had spent their lives trapped in a singular existence, and they had latched onto him like a drowning man latches onto a rope.

"I’m tired," Leo whispered, though he didn't move to get up.

"Then sleep," Ivan said, his voice a soothing lullaby. "Stay here. You don't have to go back to the studio tonight. Just stay in the middle. Let us feel you breathe."

Leo closed his eyes. He knew he should be running. He knew this was a trap made of velvet and heartbeats. But in the silence of the library, with the heat of the fire and the two identical pulses surrounding him, he felt a strange, frightening sense of belonging. For one night, he stopped fighting. He let his own heart slow down, trying, despite his fear, to find the rhythm they w

ere so desperate to share.