I woke up to the sound of beeping.
Steady, slow. Like a machine counting each beat… and daring me to match it.
My chest felt tight. But not in a painful way. More like… full. Like something was inside me that didn't belong. Something too large. Something too alive.
A cold voice broke through the fog.
> "She's awake."
I turned my head — or tried to. My neck was wrapped in tubes and wires. My throat burned. My voice was gone.
Then I saw him.
Tall. Impeccable suit. Black hair, wet like it had been raining. Eyes sharp enough to cut glass.
And staring at me like I was a lie.
> "You're… not her."
His words struck deeper than they should've. I didn't even know his name. But he looked at me like he had once memorized every inch of my body.
Then hated every new inch that wasn't hers.
The nurse whispered something, but I couldn't hear. I was too busy hearing it.
The heartbeat.
Inside me.
Loud. Strong.
But not mine.
And when his eyes lowered to the monitor, and he smiled — just barely — I understood.
He wasn't smiling at me.
He was smiling at the sound of her heart still beating.
---
The hospital lights buzzed above me like flies. I wanted to scream. But there was no voice. Just this… rhythm. This drum. Her drum.
> Arianne…
The name was distant. Mine. But not mine.
Then I remembered.
The accident.
The surgery.
The heart transplant.
And the woman who died so I could live.
My twin sister.
Amelia.
---
"I'll take her home," he said calmly, signing something.
The nurse flinched. "But sir—she just woke up—"
"She's stable. That's all I care about."
He turned to me.
"You'll rest at my house now. My wife's bedroom is already prepared."
Wife?
No.
No, I wasn't—
She was.
She died.
I—
"You're confused," he said, reading my thoughts. "That's normal. But I'll remind you every day until you remember."
Remember what?
> "How to love me again."