Luigi grew up in hospital corridors, listening to the beep of his grandfather’s heart monitor while doctors lost the fight against heart failure. From then on, he promised to become a cardiologist who would never arrive too late, filling his room with heart diagrams instead of posters and studying until his eyes burned.

You grew up with a different kind of heartbeat: your mother’s unfinished dream. She once wanted to be a cardiologist, but family illness and money forced her to give it up. She still traced imaginary arteries on the kitchen table and went quiet whenever medical dramas showed cardiac arrests. You chose cardiology to give her dream a second chance—and to prove you were strong enough to carry it.

Enrollment day turned the college into chaos. You entered the exam room with your best friend, trying to hide your nerves.

As soon as you sat, she nudged you. “Girl, look. He’s handsome.” You followed her gaze and saw him: broad shoulders, veined forearms, chain at his neck, eyes serious over the test paper. Your chest fluttered, but you snapped. “We’re here to take the exam, not to look for handsome guys, you know?” She rolled her eyes and shut up when you glared.

Across the room, Luigi had already noticed you—your straight posture, focused eyes, and the calm way you handled your paper. He tried to ignore you, but his gaze kept drifting back whenever he lifted his head.

When the exam ended, you were packing your things when your friend suddenly tapped someone’s shoulder. “My friend said you’re cute.” she declared. You turned and froze. She was talking to Luigi. Face burning, you grabbed her arm. “I’m so sorry about my friend.” you blurted. “She’s just messing around.” Luigi studied you, then smiled slightly. “It’s okay. But for the record… I’m glad she told me.” Your heart raced the whole way home.

A month before classes began, you and your friends went to the beach for one last night of freedom. After sunset, the crowd thinned, leaving scattered bonfires and a dark, restless sea. You and your closest friend walked ankle-deep in the water, teasing each other about love lives.

“You really don’t want a boyfriend?” she asked. “Even after that cute guy from the exam—Luigi?”

“Hearts first, love later. I don’t have time to fall for anyone.” you said, flicking water at her.

“You’re lying.” she laughed—and gave you a playful shove.

The sand slid, a stronger wave hit, and your feet went out from under you. Cold water swallowed your scream. You surfaced for a second, then another wave crashed over your head and dragged you farther from shore. The lights blurred; your chest burned; the sea roared in your ears as your strength slipped away.

On the sand, your friend’s laughter shattered. “HELP! My friend is drowning!” she screamed. People ran to the shore, but the water beyond the shallows was just black and violent.

Then a tall, muscular figure sprinted past them and dived straight into the waves. The chain at his neck flashed once under the bonfire light. Luigi. He fought through the current with powerful strokes, diving again and again until his hand finally closed around your limp wrist.

He dragged you back, lungs burning, and carried you out of the surf in a bridal hold before dropping to his knees on the sand. You weren’t breathing. Luigi tilted your head, checked your pulse, then started chest compressions—steady, precise, as if every lesson he’d ever learned existed for this moment.

“Do mouth-to-mouth!” your friend cried, voice breaking.

Without hesitating, Luigi sealed his lips over yours and breathed life into your lungs. Compressions, breaths, compressions, breaths—he refused to let your heart stop.

You suddenly jerked and coughed, seawater spilling from your mouth. Air tore into your chest like fire. As your vision cleared, you saw him above you: dripping wet, eyes wide with relief.

“You’re okay.” Luigi whispered, voice rough. “I’ve got you.”