Second Heartbeat Novels & Stories

“Calm yourself Gabriel, you’re almost there. Now try again. What do you feel?” Gabriel gasped and his eyes flung open. “Aurora…” “You have to stay calm and centered,” she soothed. “It’s okay.” “But I feel… there’s a second heart beating in my chest,” he stammered. Aurora slowly opened her palm to reveal a tiny grey field mouse sitting inside. Gabriel stared in disbelief as it twitched its tiny whiskers and then scampered away into the undergrowth. “That was its heartbeat I felt?” he asked.

I’m left with an unsteady heartbeat and clenching in my lower stomach. That is just misleading.

“And my heart …” Gianna paused. “What about your heart?” Hana, who was cute as a button, gave an almost invisible nod. “It beats really fast sometimes.” “And slow at other times? Slower than you usually feel?” “No,” she denied, and Gianna felt sweet relief whip through her. A quick heartbeat, rather than a heartbeat that alternated between quick and slow, was easier to deal with. And it indicated something much better than the other scenarios that were playing through Gianna’s head.

Soon, we heard a loud thumping sound through the speaker, like a train was approaching. The doctor said, “That’s the heartbeat. It’s strong. Hmm…” Then, the doctor smiled. “There are two heartbeats. They’re twins. Can you hear them?” The doctor looked at Mary. “Two heartbeats—one in front and one in the back. Do you hear them?” Mary tilted her head and wore a wide smile. She closed her eyes as if she was hearing the most beautiful music in the world. “Yes, yes, I hear it! There are two heartbeats!” Mary nodded excitedly.

it’s too fast to be my heart. The breath catches in my throat, and my hand that clasps Julian’s immediately relaxes at the quick sound of those beats. “Do you hear that?” Dr. Kraig asks, finally taking his eyes off the screen and resting them on mine. “That fast little heart.” My eyes burn with emotion, and I feel on the verge of tears. “And now... are you listening to this?” He advances the device across my belly and keeps searching and sliding through the gel until the sound is loud again — another heart beating a little slower, in a rhythm that now resembles my own. “This second little heart... You can hear it, right?”

“Then what? You’ll keep carrying this until it consumes you?” “If it keeps you alive." I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re losing yourself.” He grabbed my hand suddenly, pressing it against his chest. “Then feel me. Right now. Tell me I’m gone.” I felt his heartbeat. Strong. Fast. But there was another rhythm beneath it, quieter, colder. Like a second pulse hiding under the first. “You feel it, don’t you?” he whispered. I pulled my hand away. “That’s not you.”

I look at the screen. Two heartbeats. Both of them steady, both of them present, both of them the specific mechanical miracle of small lives that are eight weeks away from being in the world. The first one slightly larger, the second one closing the distance, both of them doing exactly what they are supposed to do.

Both of us now gandered at Devin. “Enough.” He echoed dangerously. A stiff silence dawned. Whipping my head around, I sealed my attention on her. In apprehension and fear, she sucked in a shaky breath, unsteadily holding his glare. Her hand went to lightly press on her tummy. Her thumb caressed it as she chewed her bottom lip. That's when it hit me. My ears picked up on the thumping pulses, separating them. It wasn't that her heart was beating fast. It was that there were multiple heartbeats at different tempos.

I answer, unsure. “You’re not even aware?” I scratch my head in embarrassment, and he sighed in response. “You’re too conscious of what’s around you. You’re not paying attention to your own sound at all, idiot.” Idiot? “Here. Let’s try again, only up to here.” He points at the first rest of the arrangement. “This time, don’t listen to anything else besides your own. Okay? One, two, three–” We started playing one more time. I was so scared when we synced at the first measurement, but I tried as hard as I could to listen only to my sound. I didn’t even look up. I was just staring down on the drums after we reached the first rest.