Your Heart Beats for Another

"Get out. You really think you can make a move on your best friend's boyfriend?"

My husband, Hudson Lynwood, threw a glass at me in disgust. It shattered against my forehead, and blood oozed out of the wound.

"Jovi, I think you should step out for now. Don't provoke him. I'm worried his heart won't be able to take it."

Quincey Stryker cowered softly in my husband's arms, looking at me pleadingly. I looked at them, wrapped in their unshakable love. They seemed inseparable.

My heart was torn apart as pain hit me in broken pieces. One was my husband of two years, and the other was my best friend since college years.

Hudson had been born with a heart condition. He now had the heart of Quincey's boyfriend, Maverick Goldstein, who had died in a car crash. After the surgery, Hudson insisted he was Maverick.

I forced a smile and set a container of healthy food on the table next to the hospital bed.

"Quincey, I spent three hours making this food. Make sure Hudson eats it."

I went to the restroom to treat my wound. After that, I passed by the room and saw Quincey tossing the container straight into the trash. I paused and let out a sigh before walking away.

When Hudson was diagnosed with his heart condition, I was shocked and worried. We'd been married for two years. He kept a very regular schedule and, as a university professor, had even once played in a faculty basketball game.

Two months ago, he was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect. While I was losing sleep trying to find a donor, Quincey's boyfriend had an accident.

Maverick's brakes failed on his way to work. Coincidentally, his heart was a match for Hudson.

After the transplant, Hudson woke up and insisted he was Maverick. He didn't recognize me anymore.

When I went to bring Hudson home, he refused coldly, "Jovienne, I'll say it again—I'm Maverick, not your husband. I've seen shallow and greedy women like you. You make me sick."

"Jovi, maybe it's better if Maverick.. I mean, Hudson stays at my place for now. It might help his recovery."

Hence, I packed my cookware and moved into Quincey's place.

That first night back, I made a huge dinner. Every single dish was something Hudson used to love. I hoped it would help bring him back.

"Ugh, Jovienne, was this on purpose? Don't you know I'm allergic to eggs?"

Hudson spat out the pie as soon as he tasted it, scowling at me. I didn't know if Maverick was allergic to eggs. I only knew Hudson used to have eggs for breakfast.

"Maverick, it really is you. Maverick was allergic to eggs."

I watched Quincey burst into tears, overwhelmed. Hudson rushed to her, holding her as if to comfort her.

"Hudson, are you still my Hudson?" I pondered.

Feeling lost, I headed downstairs to throw out the trash. Then, I spotted someone standing under the building down on the street.

It was Gideon Zelmor, Hudson's close friend. I walked up to him. "Gideon? How did you know Hudson moved into Quincey's place? Though, honestly, he probably won't want to see you."

Gideon looked me up and down without saying a word. His eyes shifted toward Quincey's place again before he turned and left.

"Weird," I thought.