The Heart That Was Never Mine

I gripped the test report tightly, my fingers trembling as I scanned the results again. The numbers didn't lie. The donor's profile-Nathaniel' heart-didn't match.

The door creaked open.

I shoved the paper into my pocket just as Nathaniel stormed in. His eyes were sharp, his movements brisk.

"Come with me." His fingers clamped around my wrist, his grip unrelenting.

"What? Where-"

He didn't answer. He just pulled me along, dragging me down the hall, out the door.

The car door slammed shut behind me. The engine roared as he floored the gas pedal, sAt the altar, when I reached for his hand, he barely touched mine

I stood beside him in white, smiling for the cameras. He stood like a statue-cold, indifferent.

At the altar, when I reached for his hand, he barely touched mine.

On our wedding night, he sat on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as if preparing for an execution rather than a honeymoon. I moved closer, but he pulled his hand away instantly. "Sleep," he said.

The one person who could make him lose control was her, of course.

Minutes later, we pulled into the hospital.

"Freya had an accident," Nathaniel explained in a hurry, not looking at me. "She's in urgent need of a bone marrow donor, and you're a match."

Before I could process his words, a nurse grabbed my arm, already pulling me forward.

"Wait," I dug my heels in, turning to Nathaniel. "I'll do it. But I need you to answer something first."

His brows furrowed. "Not now."

"Now," I insisted, my voice steady.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "If this is about Freya-"

"It's not," I cut him off.

I didn't care about his relationship with Freya. After all, I never loved him.

I had loved only one person in my life, the one who died saving me in an accident. After his death, his heart was donated, and I, desperate to feel his heartbeat again, found Nathaniel-whose heart now beat with the one I had loved.

I pursued him relentlessly, but he remained unmoved. Only after seeing a photo of his cousin Freya with her boyfriend did he grudgingly agree to marry me.

"five years ago, you had a heart transplant. The donor... What was his name?"

"Everstone," he muttered.

Everstone. A name completely unrelated to Ronan Montclair.

"Thank you," I said softly, before walking into the operating room.

The dull beeping of the monitor filled the sterile silence. I turned my head, every movement aching, and saw them-Nathaniel and Freya.

He sat by her bed, his fingers wrapped around hers, his voice low and tender. "You scared me, Freya," he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I thought I was going to lose you."

She gave him a weak smile, squeezing his hand. "You'd never lose me, Nathaniel."

Days passed.

I reached for the glass of water beside my bed, my fingers trembling from exhaustion. The moment I lifted it, it slipped.

Crash.

The glass shattered against the floor, splinters of it scattering like the pieces of my pride.

I stared at them, unmoving.

My lips trembled. "Ronan." His name left me in a whisper, fragile, lost. "Without you, I really can't do anything."

Tears blurred my vision.

"You loved me so much, Ronan. but Nathaniel's heart never beat for me."

One month later

I stepped into the bar, the air thick with smoke, liquor, and something else-something suffocating.

te. I pushed open the VIP room door.

The scent of whiskey and expensive perfume hit me first. Then, the sight-Nathaniel, lounging on the couch, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, a half-empty glass in his hand.

Freya draped herself over him, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered something, giggling softly.

I stepped forward, my voice slicing through the haze. "Enjoying yourself, Nathaniel?"

Surprise flashed across his face before indifference settled in. He took a slow sip of his drink. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you."

Nathaniel barely looked up. Freya leaned in closer to him, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a file and slid it across the table.

Nathaniel tapped his fingers against his glass, not bothering to open it. "What's this?"

"Your assistant couldn't find you." My tone was sharp. "He sent me to get your signature. Just sign it."

He exhaled a short laugh, finally shifting his gaze to me. "That's it?"

"That's it."

He took the pen, signed without a second glance at the paper, and tossed it back onto the table. "Done. You can leave now."

I grabbed the signed divorce papers, turned on my heel, and walked out, not sparing him another look.

With the papers in my hand, I stepped out into the night air. The wind brushed against my face, cool and biting.

I knew, at that moment, everything between Nathaniel and I was over.