Chapter 2Just His Charity Case

The waiting period was agony.

I became the greatest actress of my generation. I played the role of "Nora, the beloved girl" perfectly.

We ate dinner. We watched movies. We planned a future that didn't exist.

Roman even took me to see a condo overlooking the sound. "Nora," he said, eyes shining, "when you get your doctorate, we’ll get married. This will be our home. What do you think?"

I looked at the hope in his eyes, smiled, and said "Yes," while my insides bled.

Sloane dragged me to bridal shops. "Nora, you have to wear this silhouette! I insist on being the Maid of Honor."

I tried on the gowns. I looked at the stranger in the mirror, white as a sheet, and forced a smile.

They were so good at this. Sometimes, I almost tricked myself into believing the birthday party was a hallucination.

Until that night.

Roman was in the shower. His phone, sitting on the nightstand, lit up.

I glanced over. It was a notification from an app called "HeartBeat." A pink icon.

I knew it.

Sophomore year, Roman downloaded it. He said it was for us—a private digital diary to store his thoughts about me, for when we were old and gray. The password was my birthday.

I hadn't thought about it in years.

A demonic voice whispered in my ear: Open it.

I knew I shouldn't. It was an invasion of privacy.

But my hand moved on its own. I punched in my birthdate.

It unlocked.

I tapped the pink heart.

The latest entry was from last night.

[Took Nora to see the house. She seemed to like it. Why do I feel like there's a stone on my chest? I can't imagine living the rest of my life there with her. All I could think about was how it would look if Sloane was the one standing by the window... God, I'm a monster.]

My breath hitched.

Trembling, I scrolled up.

Six months ago.

[Sloane cut her hair short. She said it’s for the heat, but I know she’s restless. I ache for her.]

One year ago.

[Debated with Sloane at the library for hours. When I proved her wrong, she made this face... so fierce, so cute. It’s electric. It’s so different from the way I feel about Nora. With Nora, it’s just... quiet.]

Two years ago.

[Sloane’s boyfriend cheated. She cried in my arms. She smells like gardenias. My heart was racing so fast I thought she’d hear it.]

I scrolled back, page after page. A countdown to the death of our relationship.

The diary I thought was a shrine to our love had slowly, insidiously, become a shrine to her.

First "Sloane," then just "She."

He chronicled every stolen glance, every suppressed urge. Their love had been growing in the dark for years, a lush garden I was too blind to see.

I was the intruder.

I scrolled to the very first entry. The day we became a couple.

[Today, I finally brought that poor kitten home out of the rain. Her name is Nora. Her eyes are so clean, but so fragile. Like they’d shatter if I blinked. I swear, I will protect her. She will never be hurt again.]

There it was.

Proof.

I put the phone back exactly where it was. My hands were steady.

So this is what it feels like when a heart finally dies.