Heartbeat Rhymes Mga Nobela at Kwento

For a moment, I had forgotten he didn't know I wasn't deaf anymore. I looked at him with a blank expression, my voice freezing. "Are you sure your heart belongs only to me?" His face flickered with a trace of panic before he forced a smile. "And to our daughter, of course. My heart belongs to you two." Bonnie piped up from the side, "Mommy, you're not jealous of me, are you?" Before she could say more, a ringtone cut her off. Jackson stepped aside. When he returned a moment later, he seemed apologetic. "Sorry, Quinn. Something urgent came up at work. I need to handle it."

My heart hammered against my ribs. What is he doing here?

His chest was going up and down in rhythm. This is trouble!

Breathing the same air. My pulse thundering. Her lips parted…just then… BANG.

The whisper of wind through the trees. And the sound. That beautiful, rhythmic sound in my ear. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Her heart is still beating. And so I keep breathing.

I woke to thunder. Not the storm kind that rattles windows and splits skies, but the steady, relentless rumble of Theo's heart beneath my cheek. It crashed against my eardrums like waves breaking on rocks, each beat so distinct I could almost taste the copper and salt of his blood pushing through chambers and valves. His chest rose and fell beneath me, the rush of air through his lungs a windstorm in my ears. I'd never heard anything so beautifully invasive in my life.

It has to be the grumpy old lady. Marissa recalls the time when her friend Ronny decided it would be hilarious to awaken the entire building with loud music in the middle of the night. Much to her dismay, the outcome wasn’t very good as she got a long lecture by the famous grumpy old lady about being an ill-mannered woman and how it is not ladylike to have a guy home in the evening. She sometimes wonders how the hell that old lady was even born in this era. She was too narrow-minded and orthodox.

Or so I deemed him to be. “You’re the burberry guy performing at the music festival five years ago, aren’t you? Why do you sound so different?” “Aren’t you supposed to practice on your own sound?” He rolls his eyes at me. “Stop paying attention to anything and focus, will you?” I sigh deeply and pick the other stick up, “Fine.” I glower on my feet. He started counting on cue and strummed his guitar strings. The first four beats went fine. We harmonized our sound, and I actually felt happy for a second before everything started to went downhill from the second four beats.

​The air of the North had changed. It was no longer just the "sweetness" of pine and mountain water; it was a complex, multi-layered symphony of biological resonance. Every heart in the three-mile-long column—from the hardened Silver Bane warriors to the bewildered "Awakened" technicians of the South—was beating in a fragile, synchronized harmony. But as they crossed the border back into the Black Ridge, Rhea felt a sharp, dissonant note.

His hug is a lot tighter than mine but I don't mind. I gently leaned my head toward his broad chest. He's warm and he feels like home. I closed my eyes and listened to the synchronized beating of our hearts. The sound of our heartbeats makes me feel like we have a connection and deep down, it also makes me feel like I have finally found the missing piece. This feeling is something I will carry in my heart. The warmth of his body and the sound of his breathing will forever be imprinted in my mind. I love this feeling, Lucien. And I don't want this to end. I mentally uttered.