After the accident, my hearing turned strange. Sharp.
Sharp enough that I could hear, in the smallest difference between two heartbeats, whether a couple was truly in love.
The day my best friend beat her cancer, her boyfriend wept and dropped to one knee to propose.
I heard it then—the subtle stutter in his heartbeat.
The day my sister-in-law's plane nearly went down, my brother broke down sobbing at the airport, half out of his mind with relief.
I heard that too—the faint shift in the rhythm of his heart.
I always believed Toby Barnes would be like them.
But his heart was always steady. Never a ripple.
When he confessed to me, his eyes full of love, his heartbeat didn't change.
When he proposed, making his promises, his heartbeat didn't change.
Even three years into our marriage, his heart never wavered, not once.
Everyone around me said he loved me, and I believed he was simply the exception.
Until I crashed my car again, and walked into his ER with blood streaming down my face.
He came rushing out, went straight past me, and ran to the ex-girlfriend who'd been in the same wreck.
And in that moment, I heard it.
His heart, surging like a storm.
……
"Miss Swanson?"
The bright light stabbed into my eyes.
I blinked, focused, and looked at the nurse cleaning my wound.
"Miss Swanson, can you tell me how many fingers this is?"
She held them up. I gave a number, dazed.
In my ears, I could still hear Toby's heart pounding wildly.
Three years dating. Three years married.
I had tested him countless times.
When we were dating, we'd kiss until we shared the same breath, and I would listen, carefully, for his heart.
Nothing. Not a flicker.
At our wedding, when he slid the ring onto my finger, I was sure I'd hear something different in his chest.
But it stayed steady. Not a ripple.
My best friend tried to comfort me—Toby was just the exception, she said.
After all, he was always the first to show up when I was sick.
He'd cross half the city on a business trip just because I'd mentioned wanting some sold-out collectible, and stand in line for it.
He'd lower his own limits, again and again, for me.
I always believed he loved me.
But now, pressing the bandage on my forehead, I walked toward him, step by step.
Seven steps away, I heard it again.
Toby's heart, surging like a storm.
"Toby, I'm fine. I don't need your help!"
"Daisy Matthews, stop being stubborn!"
"Have you forgotten you have a congenital heart condition? All these years, and you still won't take your own body seriously!"
In the busy hospital, full of people coming and going, the two of them seemed to form an invisible wall around themselves.
I watched them, and suddenly the Toby in front of me felt like a stranger.
In front of me—in front of everyone, really—he was always the gentle, refined gentleman.
In this moment, it was as though he'd suddenly come alive.
The forehead they'd hit throbbed, a sharp, pulsing ache.
I dug my fingers into my palm and took two more steps closer.
Toby's heart was still surging.
"Toby, I told you to leave me alone. I'm about to get married!"
The words had barely left Daisy's mouth.
I heard Toby's heart stop for a few seconds.
Then it started up again, beating like something gone mad.
The bandage the nurse had wrapped—at some point, the blood welling up had soaked clean through it.
Red, dripping, falling drop by drop onto the white floor.
I stumbled a few steps and came up behind Toby.
"Toby, it hurts so much…"
The same coaxing tone I always used. My hand had just touched his arm.
Then Daisy suddenly looked up at me.
Her face went white, and she shot to her feet and bolted for the door.
