Chapter 1
I was born with a weak heart. To help David Bennett, my husband of seven years, get through a crisis at his company, I gave up the only matching heart donor I ever had. Then I survived on meds day after day, barely holding on.
He promised he would find me the perfect heart. But five years passed, and I waited for nothing. I never got another chance at a transplant.
Meanwhile, a girl named Emily Shaw lived with us. He had taken her in like a sister.
She had only been there for three months before she got the heart he fought tooth and nail to secure. He even charged her surgery to our shared card.
Clutching my aching chest, I told him I wanted a divorce.
He stood by my bed, tears streaming down his face as he squeezed my hand. "Claire, you're my wife. Once I've made enough money, I'll get you the best doctors.
"But Emily is different. She's only eighteen. Without this heart, she won't make it through the winter.
"She's the only family I have left. Please, hang in there a little longer, for me, okay?"
I looked into his bloodshot eyes, and once again, my heart softened.
It wasn't until I started coughing up blood that I went back to the hospital for another check-up, and while I was there, I brought up the heart donor issue.
The doctor flipped through my medical records, looking puzzled. "Mrs. Bennett, your heart donor registration was canceled three years ago. Mr. Bennett handled it himself. Didn't you know?"
I leaned against the hospital corridor wall. My chest felt heavy and tight, like I was trying to breathe through a soaked rag. My throat was so dry and bitter that I could hardly swallow.
I didn't go back to that house that always smelled like medicine. Instead, I bought the first ticket I could get out of town.
Before the train started moving, he texted me: [You're not home. Where did you go? Still mad? Don't be so stubborn. I told you I'd figure something out.]
But David, I was barely alive. What could you possibly do now?
*****
After coughing up blood again, I called David ten times. Not a single answer.
This had never happened before. With my heart problems, David was always scared something might happen to me at home. So he set my number to alert him no matter what. Whenever I called, he'd always pick up right away.
The only two times he missed my call, he was tied up in a big deal with a client. As soon as he saw it, he'd call me back immediately.
This time, I figured he was busy.
A sudden, sharp pain stabbed through my chest, and all the color drained from my face. Each breath was pure agony. I clutched my chest, doubled over, and my vision blurred, fading in and out.
The messages I sent to David disappeared into silence, no reply, nothing.
With no other option, I grabbed a cab and went to the hospital on my own.
When I got out, the driver, worried about me, called a doctor over.
After more than an hour of treatment, my condition finally stabilized.
John was the hospital's top cardiologist, and he'd been my doctor for the past five years. When he saw me, he let out a sigh. "Mrs. Bennett, you know your situation, don't you?"
I nodded quietly.
He set my medical records down in front of me, his voice calm and firm. "Your heart is in severe failure. If you still refuse to look for a donor, even a miracle worker couldn't help you now."
John never sugarcoated anything. To me, it was like he'd handed me a death sentence.
I took a deep breath, and my hands and feet went cold. It took me a second to speak, "What do you mean I'm refusing? I put myself back on the transplant list five years ago, but I never got any updates all these years."
John cut me off, looking through my records, confused. "Mrs. Bennett, your heart donor registration was canceled three years ago. Mr. Bennett personally took care of it and had your registration switched to Ms. Shaw. Didn't you know?"
I froze, my breath caught in my throat.
Three years ago, when I wanted to come to the hospital to review my medical records, David stopped me. He told me everything was already arranged and that I shouldn't worry and should focus on getting better at home.
He swore he'd spend every last dollar if that was what it took to find me a matching heart. Was it all a lie?
A deep pain spread from my chest through my whole body.
The hospital was warm, but I pulled my clothes tighter around me anyway. An icy chill crawled down my spine and left me shivering. My throat felt so dry and bitter that I could barely swallow.
John sighed and pulled a heart donor registration form from his drawer. "You can fill out another form, but the odds aren't good at this point. There's only a 10% chance it'll work. You..."
I looked up, meeting his hesitant gaze, then glanced down and read the 10% chance on the form. I managed a weak smile as I pushed the form back toward him. "Thanks. But I don't think I'll be needing it."