
The Heart That Was Never Mine
Five years ago, Ronan gave his life for me, his donating heart forever intertwined with mine.
In my grief, I married Nathaniel, believing his heart was Ronan's.
But Nathaniel, selfish and cruel, tore me apart, using me for his cousin's needs. He abandoned me when I fell, left me to bleed, and put his cousin, Freya, above me time and time again. That's when the truth hit-his heart was never Ronan's.
I fled to Edinburgh, to Silas, where Ronan's heart truly lay.
Nathaniel found me, chasing me across miles, but all his words did was confirm what I already knew: even if Silas held Ronan's heart, he was not Ronan.
Silas, too, was filled with jealousy and hurt, but when he learned the truth, he pushed me away. "Don't keep reliving your past with me," he said.
I let go of Ronan's heart and finally found my true heart.
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Chapter 2
Nathaniel returned home a month later.
It was past midnight when the door creaked open. I was half-asleep, barely registering the sound of his footsteps, the rustle of fabric as he shrugged off his coat.
Then the bed dipped. The familiar scent of him-whiskey, rain, and something inherently him-wrapped around me. An arm curled around my waist, firm and possessive, pulling me into his warmth.
I jolted awake.
I pushed his arm away and shifted toward the edge of the bed.
"Aren't you the one who needs my heartbeat to sleep at night?"
I didn't reply, just moved farther.
"What the hell is going on with you?"
"I don't need it anymore,"
He exhaled sharply, frustration evident. "You're lying."
I closed my eyes. "Go to sleep, Nathaniel."
For once, he didn't argue. But he didn't move closer either.
The next morning, I woke late, the sun already high in the sky. As I made my way downstairs, I noticed Nathaniel wasn't in a rush to leave.
"Aren't you going to be with Freya today?"
He paused, the faintest trace of patience in his tone. "Freya's just my cousin. She's sick, so I've been taking care of her. You mentioned wanting to go diving. I haven't been able to spend time with you lately, so I thought I'd take you today."
"No. I'm fine."
He didn't seem to hear me. Before I could say anything more, he was already on the phone, making arrangements. "Get the yacht ready,"
The yacht sliced through the waves, heading toward a remote island-our island, the one Nathaniel and I had once promised to visit together.
As we neared the shore, Nathaniel's phone rang. I caught a glimpse of the screen. "Freya."
I didn't say a word. I just watched him, numb.
He turned away quickly, boarding the yacht with swift, determined movements. Not a single glance back.
And then, I was alone.
The wind howled, stinging my face.
I stood on the shore, staring at the vast stretch of sand, the few coconut trees swaying in the breeze. There was nothing here but silence. No boats. No signals. Just me.
I turned, my back to the island, and marched toward the other side. The faint sight of a small dock in the distance was the only thing that kept me going.
The sand felt like quicksand beneath my feet, each step sinking deeper, dragging me under. My feet were raw, blisters forming as I forced myself to move.
Finally, just as the sky darkened, I reached the dock.
I took out my phone and saw an unread message: "Come to the yacht's VIP room."
I headed straight for the yacht.
It wasn't that I was worried about Nathaniel-I simply didn't want him causing any trouble before I made my way to Edinburgh.
I reached the door of the private room, pushed it open, and stepped inside. Without warning, a glass of red wine splashed down on me, the burning liquid running down my forehead, the sharp scent of alcohol exploding in my nostrils.
My lashes fluttered, my vision blurred for a moment.
Before I could react, a hand landed on my shoulder, shoving me forward. I stumbled, crashing into the dining table. Pain shot through my back as my white dress stained with a vivid splash of red, blooming like a blood-soaked rose.
Laughter erupted around me.
"Oh, sorry, sorry, my hand slipped," the woman across from me said with a light tone, her smile playful and her eyes dancing with amusement-no trace of apology in sight.
"Really, Antasia, Nathaniel's been close with his cousin since childhood. Don't you think you're in the way?" someone mocked with a fake sigh.
Others joined in with laughter, and just as I steadied myself, another glass of wine was thrown-this time landing right on my chest, soaking through my dress.
I licked my lips, numbed by the alcohol, and slowly lifted my head. My face remained serene, unshaken. I pulled tissues from my bag, wiped the wine from my fac.
The room fell silent for a second before laughter erupted again.
Seeing that I wasn't reacting, some found it boring, but others were even more intrigued. One person pulled out their phone and waved a video in front of me. "Hey, we called you here to show you-just how much Nathaniel loves his cousin."
I looked at the screen. There was Nathaniel, his face dimly lit by the room's light, with Freya in his arms.
He bent down, carefully lifting her "I'll carry you, don't want you to get tired."
"You guys don't worry, I'll step aside, because. I don't like him either."
My voice was quiet.
Suddenly, the door behind me flung open.
Nathaniel walked in. His gaze swept the room, then froze on me-soaked and standing there.
His face darkened instantly. "What the hell is going on here?!"
No one expected Nathaniel to be angry on my behalf. After a moment, someone awkwardly chuckled. "Nathaniel, we're just having a little fun with Antasia. Don't take it seriously."
"We just thought we'd make some space for your dear cousin, so she'd be comfortable." someone tried to make light of the situation, but before they could finish, Nathaniel slapped them across the face.
Smack!
The sound echoed through the room, sharp and resounding.
The entire room went silent, everyone stunned.
No one dared to utter a single word.
Without even glancing at me-drenched and standing there-he walked straight to the front and his voice grew colder, icier. "All of you, get out."
I caught a glimpse of Freya standing at the door.
The moment she saw Nathaniel about to leave, her lips pursed, her eyes flashing with tears. "Nathaniel, isn't today my special day? Why are you leaving already? We haven't even started the fun. You promised me you'd let my sister-in-law join us."
Nathaniel hesitated.
"Antasia," his voice was low, "Can you handle this?"
I looked down, my soaked clothes clinging to me, the blood slowly dripping from my forehead.
I managed to force a smile.
"I can."
Nathaniel's expression softened,he smirked coldly, glancing at Freya. "Go ahead, continue. It's just a little hiccup. Antasia will be fine."
The others,all Freya's friends, sitting on the couches, quickly adjusted their attitudes.
The game resumed, now spinning the bottle. The bottle landed on Nathaniel.
"Nathaniel, do you prefer pure or... wild women?"
Nathaniel gave the answer everyone was waiting for. "Pure."
"Nathaniel, is the one you like someone who's been with you since childhood?"
The teasing grew louder and louder, but Nathaniel suddenly fell silent. Just as he seemed about to forgo the question and take a drink, someone grabbed his hand.
I sat back, watching as he finally released the wine glass, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes."
Freya.
The teasing escalated, and Freya's face flushed an even deeper red.
Amid the noise and raucous laughter, Freya finally lifted her head, a smug smile curling at the corners of her lips. Her gaze shifted towards me, sitting not far off, and she spoke with a sense of triumph.
"Antasia must be so bored sitting over there all alone. Why don't you come join us?"
I got up and moved over, and the group cheered, diving straight back into the game.
The bottle spun again, and this time, it landed on me.
"Is the person you love most here today?"
Someone immediately chimed in.
"Who doesn't know that Antasia's deepest love is for Nathaniel?"
I paused.
"No."
Nathaniel's expression darkened.
His hand shot out, seizing a nearby wine bottle. With a savage twist, he slammed it against the table. Glass exploded in a jagged spray, the sound of shattering echoing through the room like a gunshot.