The Heart That He Stole

I clung to the door handle until my knuckles blanched, nails biting into my skin. I barely noticed the pain. Silent tears traced cold paths down my cheeks, falling to the floor below.

I finally understood.

Ryan had never wanted me.

His proposal, his patience, the three years he spent pretending to love me, all of it had been for Olivia.

I was not his future. I was only his penance.

The voices inside continued.

Caleb spoke first, his voice heavy with something that almost sounded like regret.

"For Olivia, I killed Emma's mother with my own hands. I still cannot forget the hatred in her eyes when she looked at me. Now that you are giving Emma a wedding, I suppose that counts as my compensation to her."

Ryan let out a cold, humorless laugh. "If Olivia had been in love with me instead of you, do you honestly think I would have married Emma? You had better treat Olivia well. If you hurt her, I will not let you get away with it."

"You too," Caleb replied. "Treat her well."

"That's not something you need to worry about," Ryan said. "I've never loved Emma. The only woman I've ever loved is Olivia. I married Emma only to do a good deed."

Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze.

I ached to storm in, rip away their masks of kindness, and demand how they could commit something so unforgivable.

However, I could not move.

My feet felt nailed to the floor.

In the end, I ran.

I hated myself for it. I was too much of a coward even to confront them.

I wandered the streets alone.

Everywhere around me, people walked in pairs or groups.

Couples held hands. Families laughed together. Friends huddled beneath umbrellas.

Everyone seemed to belong somewhere.

I did not.

The sky darkened overhead. Then the rain came without warning.

Heavy drops pounded against my skin, sharp enough to hurt.

I curled up on a street corner, letting the rain soak me through while my tears blurred the world into streaks of light and shadow.

The city pulsed with noise and life, yet not a single corner welcomed me.

Then suddenly, warmth wrapped around me.

Strong arms pulled me into a familiar embrace.

The clean scent of cedar surrounded me.

It was Ryan.

"I called you so many times, but you never answered," he said. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

I stared ahead blankly and said nothing.

His voice softened. "Are you thinking about your mom again? Do not think about it anymore. You have me now. I am your family."

I leaned against his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Each heartbeat pressed into me like a blunt knife, carving a deeper ache inside.

I thought, 'He's always so kind and dependable. How could this man be one of the people who killed my mother?'

When Caleb abandoned my mother to care for Olivia, Ryan seemed like a savior. He arrived with a doctor in tow, a supposed beacon of hope slicing through the shadows.

Now, I understood the truth.

That doctor never came to save her; he came to take her heart. This explains why my mother's funeral was so swift.

I had collapsed from shock that day.

By the time I woke up, her body had already been cremated.

They rushed it all to bury the truth beyond my reach.

…

Ryan carried me home.

He grabbed a towel and instinctively reached toward my hair to dry it.

Just before his fingers touched me, I turned my head away.

"I can do it myself."

Without waiting for a response, I walked upstairs.

Now that I knew the truth, I could not force myself to keep pretending. I couldn't bring myself to smile at him or pretend that nothing had occurred.

If I stayed near him for even a moment longer, I was afraid I might reach for his throat and never let go.