The Dying Beats Of A Borrowed Heart

When the kidnapper raised his gun to kill him, I threw myself in front of Julian. The bullet shattered my heart. Overseas, doctors replaced it with an experimental mechanical heart—powered purely by a built-in battery. Because of that heart, Julian married me. All our friends congratulated me, saying I had finally gotten what I wanted and married the love of my life. Yet years later, while doctors were cracking my chest open on the operating table, Julian was kissing another woman under the moonlight. I didn't react. I just lay there in silence, nursing what little life my heart had left. Julian hated how numb I had become. He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me, his voice tight. "Vivian, why aren't you angry? Why don't you care?" What he didn't know was that I couldn't get angry. My heart was running out of beats. Every single day he spent chasing his new romance was another tick off my countdown. During my hospital checkup, my best friend Chloe sent me a text on SnapChat. Julian brought that girl right in front of us again. Are you really just going to let this happen? Before I could reply, a sudden wave of heart palpitations hit me. My chest clenched in agonizing pain. I leaned against the hallway wall, taking deep, shaky breaths, barely keeping myself upright. I locked my phone. I didn't want to reply. My doctor walked over holding my test results and helped me into the exam room. He shook his head grimly. "Things are worse than before. You need to prepare yourself. No intense emotions, no stress. Otherwise..." I smiled politely, tossing a handful of pills into my mouth and swallowing them dry. "I know, Doctor. I’ve lived with this fake heart for years." Six years ago, Julian and I were vacationing abroad. His family’s business rivals set an ambush and kidnapped us both. When the gunman decided to execute Julian, I jumped between them. The bullet tore clean through my chest. Fortunately, the police raided the scene just in time and rushed me to the hospital. My heart was completely destroyed. I had virtually zero chance of survival. In a desperate gamble, a brilliant surgeon installed his experimental mechanical prototype into my chest cavity. From that moment on, every single beat of my life depended on that machine. After we returned home, Julian proposed to me. He gave me an eight-carat pigeon-blood ruby ring. He said, "Vivian, you gave up your heart for me. I swear I will cherish you for the rest of my life." This year was our fifth anniversary. But just as my heart was artificial, his love had turned fake too. Three years ago, other women started appearing around him. He would come home smelling of sweet, heavy perfume, pulling me into hugs that made me want to throw up. Sometimes there were faint red lipstick marks on his white collars. Whenever I looked at them, he would frown and turn my face away. "Nothing to see," he would say dismissively. I knew those girls were just fleeting distractions to him. Until recently, when he actually fell in love. Her name was Zoe. Innocent, fragile, and sweet—the exact kind of girl who stroked Julian’s ego and need for control. They had been together for three months. He brought her to dinner with our mutual friends, took her to private parties, making a silent statement to everyone. My friends blew up my phone asking what was going on, but I never answered. Walking out of the clinic, I spotted Julian’s car parked at the curb. The cold wind cut straight through my coat. I pulled it tight around myself and crossed the plaza toward him. Inside the car, Zoe saw me first. She stopped giggling with him, her flushed cheeks looking like ripe peaches. She rested her head against his shoulder, wearing a sugary smile. She whispered something to him, and only then did Julian glance outside and notice me. He rolled down the window. "My mom said you had an appointment today. Told me to check on you. Are you alright?" I shook my head slightly. "I'm fine. Same as always." Julian nodded. "Thought so." "Of course she's fine! She has a heart of steel, doesn't she?" Zoe chimed in, clinging to his arm and pouting playfully. "Julian, since Vivian is fine, take me to the movies! And I want to try that new French place downtown. I heard it’s amazing." I stood in the biting wind, my nose and fingers numb with cold.Julian started the engine. "Since you're fine, take an Uber home. Zoe and I have plans." Zoe waved at me with a sweet, condescending grin. "We're leaving now, Vivian! Take care of your health~" The window rolled up, and the car sped off into traffic. I stood there in the breeze. "My health... right." Chloe invited me out for dinner downtown later that evening. As luck would have it, she picked that exact new French restaurant. It was packed and lively. Midway through dinner, I stepped out to use the restroom. Just outside the corridor, I ran right into Zoe. She blocked my path, glaring at me like a defensive little animal. "Why are you following us? Are you deliberately trying to ruin my date with Julian?" I gave her a flat look. "Unmarried couples go on dates. What you and Julian are doing is called an affair." Zoe blew up instantly, shouting, "You're just jealous! Jealous that I'm younger, prettier, and actually have Julian's heart!" "Have you looked in the mirror lately? Your lips are purple, your eyes look dead! Julian told me you don't even have a real heart. What makes you think you deserve him?" I was surprised Julian had told her about my mechanical heart. He really opened up to her, didn't he? Too bad the heart he was giving away belonged to me. Zoe stomped her foot in frustration, acting like she wanted to crush me under her heel. Her slick leather boots slipped on the polished marble floor. She lost her footing and tumbled hard onto the ground. "Ouch!" she wailed. Across the hall, Julian rushed over in an instant. Seeing him, my heart rate surged dangerously, throbbing hard against my ribs. I pressed a hand against my chest, struggling to steady my breathing. Two women in front of him—his wife and his new mistress. Julian hesitated for barely a second before stooping down to lift Zoe into his arms. His brow was furrowed with pure concern. "How could you be so clumsy?" Zoe pretended she couldn't stand, falling into his chest and sobbing softly. "It wasn't my fault... It was... it was Vivian..." Julian finally bothered to look at me. Zoe sniffled. "I caught her following us, and when I asked her about it, she... she called me a pathetic home-wrecker! Julian, I love you, and you love me. I'm not a home-wrecker!" She buried her face in his shirt, weeping dramatically. I leaned heavily against the wall, trying to catch my breath. Julian glared at me, his tone accusing. "Did you really say that to her?" I couldn't speak, nor did I want to look at him. I simply turned my eyes away. "Julian, look at her! She won't even deny it!" Zoe cried out. "She's so cruel! Look at my hand, it's scraped raw! She did this!" She had tripped on her own, yet somehow it became my crime. Julian ordered coldly, "Vivian, speak." He seemed to be waiting for an explanation, but I had nothing to say. I couldn't even force the words out. His expression darkened. "I didn't realize you could be this petty. Bullying a younger girl? If you have an issue, take it out on me." The floor manager noticed the scene and walked over to see what was happening. Julian flashed an exclusive VIP card. "I'm a black-card member here. I suspect this woman followed us inside. Is this how your restaurant protects its guests' privacy?"A black-tier membership at this establishment couldn't be bought with money alone; it required high-society referrals. The manager bowed nervously. "I am so sorry, Mr. Vance. I will ask this lady to leave immediately." "Apologize to my girl first!" Julian snapped, his temper flaring. The manager quickly turned to Zoe, bowing repeatedly. "My sincerest apologies, Miss. I am so sorry for interrupting your evening. I will handle this right now." Zoe tilted her chin proudly, giving me a smug, triumphant look. So what if I was his lawful wife? She was the one who had his favor. The manager turned to me with a cold face. "Ma'am, the exit is that way. Please leave. And please refrain from harassing other guests in the future." He stepped in front of me, gesturing firmly toward the doors. Over his shoulder, I watched Julian wrap his arm around Zoe's waist, whispering comforting words to her, kissing her hair. A long time ago, he used to comfort me like that. Things really do change. Chloe came looking for me after I had been gone too long. Seeing the manager trying to throw me out, she lost it. She whipped out her own VIP card and threw it right in his face. "You think Julian Vance is the only member here? Do you have any idea who she is? She is that man’s legal wife!" The manager panicked, sweating profusely. "I am so sorry! I had no idea! But... Mr. Vance always comes here with Miss Zoe... we all assumed..." They assumed Zoe was his partner. Chloe was about to curse him out, but I caught her sleeve. "Forget it, Chloe. It's not his fault." Chloe’s eyes welled with tears. "Vivian, look at you! And that bastard Julian is still—" "Don't talk about him," I whispered, cutting her off. "Let’s just eat. Please. After all..." After all, my days were numbered. Every dinner with a friend was one fewer I had left. Chloe hugged me tightly, breaking into quiet sobs. I found myself wondering: when my funeral came, would Julian cry like this for me? When that day arrived, Julian, would you regret everything you did today? A week later, during a severe thunderstorm, I collapsed at home. With poor blood flow, my body was giving out. When the paramedics arrived, I hazily saw Julian’s silhouette through half-closed eyes. His voice broke, terrified. "Don't sleep! Vivian, please don't sleep!" Those words sounded so familiar. Years ago, when I took that bullet for him, he had screamed the exact same thing, begging me to stay awake. Did Julian love me? Of course he did. We grew up together. We were each other's longest companions. When we were kids, a loud clap of spring thunder scared me so badly I jumped into his arms. That was how he learned about my deepest phobia. "Afraid of a little thunder, scaredy-cat? Don't worry, I'm tough. I'll protect you." He knew I feared storms, so every time the sky turned dark, he stayed by my side. If the forecast called for thunderstorms, no matter how busy he was, he canceled everything just to sit with me through the night. He promised me: "No matter where I am, if it storms, I will cross heaven and earth to be with you." Because of that promise, I hadn't been afraid for a very long time. Tonight was another storm. The terror of thunder kept me awake. I sat in the dark living room waiting until midnight. But when the first boom of thunder cracked across the sky, Zoe posted a video on Ins—a multi-million-dollar private fireworks display celebrating her birthday. In the glow of the fireworks, I caught Julian's familiar side profile. This city was so vast. One half was drenched in rain and lightning, while the other was bathed in calm starlight. Drowning in thunderclaps and an erratic, skyrocketing pulse, I collapsed inside my bedroom closet.