Part 1One Hour Too Late: The Heart He Broke Forever

I made Keir Sterling angry.

No matter how I tried to make it up to him, he wouldn't budge.

Even when I told him I wasn't feeling well, he didn't panic the way he used to.

I got off the Amtrak train and called him.

"Keir, I’m in San Francisco for my heart appointment. Can you take me to the hospital?"

Keir’s voice was sharp over the line.

"Your heart was fixed years ago. Stop playing the victim, Leo. It’s pathetic."

A dull ache throbbed in my chest.

"It’s just a follow-up," I whispered.

He let out a cold, mocking laugh.

"Fine. Then stay there and wait."

I sat obediently in a corner of the crowded station.

I waited for a long time.

I waited until my heartbeat slowed, fluttered, and finally stopped.

Keir never showed up.

* * *

Before I closed my eyes, I didn't know I would die like this—so abruptly, in the waiting area of a noisy train station.

I just felt very sleepy.

I thought I’d just nap for a little while.

Just a quick nap, and then I’d see Keir.

I imagined him standing over me, sternly demanding why I couldn't stay home instead of coming to the city to cause trouble.

I closed my eyes, rehearsing the excuses I’d use to beg him to take me to the clinic:

Because Keir was always the one who took me to my appointments.

Because the insurance info was on his phone.

Because if the doctor asked about my childhood surgery, Keir was the only one who remembered the details.

Yeah. Those were the reasons.

It definitely wasn't because I missed him too much.

But when I opened my eyes again, I saw my own body.

It was still sitting in that corner of the crowded, grimy terminal.

My head was tilted back against the wall, my eyelashes still, my body unmoving.

I looked like I was just sleeping peacefully.

My phone vibrated and slid from my lap, hitting the floor.

I reached out to grab it without thinking, but my hand passed right through it.

I stared at my translucent fingertips.

The realization hit me with a slow, heavy thud.

I was dead.

Quietly, invisibly dead in a terminal full of strangers.

I had died while waiting for Keir Sterling to come and "save" me.

The screen lit up. A text from Keir from a minute ago.

[Still waiting?]

[That proves you weren't actually sick.]

[Leo, you’re lying again.]

I didn't lie, I said to the empty air. I really didn't feel well.

I was born with a heart defect.

I had the surgery when I was six, and everyone thought I was cured.

But three months ago, the tightness returned. My lips would turn blue, and I couldn't catch my breath.

Before "the incident," Keir would have been terrified.

He would have dropped everything to get me to a specialist.

But now, he didn't believe a word I said. He was convinced I was a manipulative liar who would do anything for attention.

Ever since we were teenagers, Keir had acted more like a parent than a brother.

He was serious, mature, and protective.

He worried about every scratch, every draft. He controlled the layers of clothes I wore and the temperature of the AC in my room.

If I coughed or even frowned, Keir was there.

I was spoiled by that attention.

I grew selfish.

I used to cling to him and say, "I’m never getting married."

I’d wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze hard. "And you’re not allowed to marry anyone either, Keir. You have to stay with me forever."

Keir would just laugh and ruffle my hair.

"Stop talking nonsense," he’d say, his voice not stern at all.

And when I’d pouted, he’d add, "I’ll wait until you’re married first, okay? Will that make you happy?"

I didn't answer. I’d just stare up at his face for a long time.

Half of me wanted time to stop forever. The other half hoped for something to change.

Something did change. Just not the way I wanted.

I should have looked at him longer while I was alive, I thought, staring at my own corpse.

Now, I would never see him again.

People walked past me, but no one looked twice.

Someone sleeping in a train station was the most normal thing in the world.

Then, a pair of small hands picked up the phone from the floor.