My Heart Novels & Stories

Jesse blinked at the gleaming marble floors, the crystal chandeliers, the fresh-cut orchids arranged like art installations. "You live here alone?" he asked. Alina walked ahead, heels tapping like a ticking clock. "Alone is underrated." As they passed through a gallery hallway-lined with modern art that probably cost more than his old neighborhood-Jesse stopped in front of a sculpture that looked like two twisted metal hearts. "What's this one called?" "'Affection Fatigue,'" Alina said dryly. "By a French artist who only works during breakups." "Cheerful." She shot him a look. "You'll get used to it. Come on."

Asher I woke up sweating profusely and my heart beating really hard and fast. I was so scared and it felt like I was having a heart attack. I wasn’t sick before going to bed but the dream I had was so scary and it just did a lot of things to my mental heart.

he says. “Tell me what? “ I ask, with worry, lazing through my chest. “I’m sorry, but this…” I know my heart is about to get shredded.

“Always.” They stepped forward, their joined hands pressing against the surface of the core. It was warm—alive—and in that instant, Lena saw everything. Every memory of the world, every secret, every heartbeat stored within the Heart’s endless code. And then, beneath it all, she saw a flicker of something human—fear. The Heart was afraid. “Adrian,” she whispered, realization dawning. “It’s not perfect. It’s still learning—it doesn’t understand loss.” He looked at her, understanding sparking. “Then let’s teach it.”

“If you’re not too tired after work, maybe we can go to the movies tonight ?” I grinned. “I’d love that.” He kissed me lightly, unhurried, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth. “Have a good day, sweetheart.” My heart did that stupid flutter thing it always did when he said things like that. “You too,” I murmured.

𝐴 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡. TBC

He had always been proud and cold, always the one standing above everyone, giving orders. But now, he was crying like a child who'd been kicked out of his own home. If this were the past, my heart would have immediately softened. I would have rushed to hold him. But now, I felt like I was watching the end of a pathetic play. Once the curtain falls, it's over. My heart was calm, untouched. People are like that. When you hold something in your hand, you toss it around carelessly. Only when it's thrown away do you realize you want to pick it back up.

"My heart." He took my hand, the one he was holding, and pressed it firmly against his chest. I felt the thick cotton of his hoodie, and beneath it, the hard, steady rhythm of his heart. It was fast—frenetic, even. It matched the erratic thumping of my own.

My heαrt wαs pounding so hαrd it felt like it might burst out of my chest. Whαt the heck is hαppening?

My heart, something that had felt distant for so long, began to beat louder, faster, as if it was trying to catch up with something it had missed. I couldn’t look away. All I could feel was my loud heartbeat.