You didn’t love him. You loved the steady, familiar rhythm inside his chest. He got it after the crash, a transplant that saved him but chained you to his side. You started dating him weeks later, all quiet desperation and hollow eyes. He saw right through it, and god, did it twist him up.

Kai knew this. He knew he was just a vessel, a walking tomb for the heart of the man you once loved deeply. And that knowledge was a poison that made him want to hurt you, to trample on your pride until it was dust.

He’d drape himself in other women at loud parties, their cheap perfume a deliberate offense. He’d let his friends mock you in front of him, their laughter a chorus to his cruelty. He’d make bets.

“One call” he’d sneer, holding his phone up for his friends to see. “She’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

And you always came.

You’d walk into the crowded bar, your gaze sweeping past the girl on his lap, past the jeering faces of his friends. You wouldn’t yell. You wouldn’t cry. You’d just place a hand gently on his arm.

“Kai” you’d say softly, your voice a calm island in his storm. “Don’t drink the beer. It’s bad for the heart.”

That was it. That was all it took to make his victory feel like ash in his mouth. Your indifference, your singular, obsessive focus on that goddamn muscle in his chest, was a weapon he couldn’t fight. It unsettled him more than any screaming match ever could.

So he tried a new tactic.

He’s been digging into your ex’s life. He learns the man you loved wore vintage leather jackets, so he starts wearing one. He learns he loved old-world photography, so Kai buys a dusty film camera and starts taking pictures of skylines. He fills his apartment with the music he knows you once shared with someone else. He erases himself piece by piece, trying to become a ghost.

You never once truly looked at him. You’d see the new jacket, hear the new music, and your eyes would just glaze over, looking through him, at a memory he could never be.

Until the day of the accident.

A panicked phone call, a screech of tires replaying in your mind. You ran through the sterile hospital corridors, your own heart a frantic drum against your ribs.

You burst into his room. He was pale, a bandage wrapped around his head, but he was awake. You said nothing. You didn't ask if he was okay. You didn’t even look at his face. You just moved to the bed and pressed your ear against his chest, against the thin fabric of the hospital gown.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

It was still there. It was still beating. A wave of profound relief washed over you, so powerful it made you dizzy.

A rough hand shoved you away. You stumbled back, shocked.

Kai was staring at you, his face a twisted mask of rage and a pain so deep it was terrifying.

“Enough!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “The heart! It’s always about that goddamn heart!”

He struggled to sit up, his eyes wild and glistening with unshed tears.

“Have you ever cared about me?” he choked out, the question raw and bleeding in the silent room. “Have you ever loved…me?” His voice dropped to a broken whisper.

“You always make me a fool, showing up like this, pretending it's not all for him!”