Your Loving Heart Stopped

Seven years after he left to study abroad, the boy Id loved my whole life finally came home to introduce his new girlfriend to his parents.
That same week, my doctors finally announced that my seven-year battle with cancer had failed. I could go home to die.
When Sherman saw me being wheeled out by my mother, a cruel smirk touched his lips.
"Well, well. Seven years, and look at you," he sneered. "So pathetic you can't even walk on your own two feet."
Hearing the contempt in his voice, I just quietly pulled down the sleeve of my jacket, hiding the dense constellation of needle marks on the back of my hand.
"It's nothing," I said softly. "I just fell and broke a bone."
He let out another sharp, mocking laugh.
"Is that so? Well, in that case, since I'm getting married soon, you can be my fiance's bridesmaid."
I managed a faint, calm smile.
"I can't. I'm going somewhere very far away soon."
With that, I patted my mothers hand, a silent signal for her to push me home.

1
As soon as we got home, my mom helped me into bed. It wasnt long before Shermans mother showed up.
She stepped into my room, her eyes darting toward me, her words hesitant.
"Nina," she began, "I I have an enormous favor to ask."
Her face was flushed. She didn't have to say the rest. I already knew. It was the same as seven years ago.
The memory was seared into my mind. The day I was diagnosed, she had burst into my hospital room, her expression a frantic mix of urgency and guilt. I hadn't even had a chance to process the word "cancer." I was hysterical, sobbing with terror, when she fell to her knees in front of me.
"Nina, I'm begging you," shed pleaded, her voice a desperate whisper. "Don't drag Sherman down with you. He just got his acceptance letter. If he finds out you're sick, he'll never go."
"You and Sherman grew up together, you've been in love for years. Please, for my sake, don't ruin his future. Break up with him. Please."
"I've already figured it all out. I've arranged for a boy to meet you. All you have to do is pretend to kiss him downstairs. Let Sherman 'catch' you. Then just break his heart."
Because of her words, the first thing I did after my diagnosis wasn't schedule treatments or see a specialist.
It was to stage a betrayal. To coldly, cruelly break Shermans heart and force him out of the country.
And now, just as I expected, her voice dropped to a conspiratorial, guilt-laden whisper.
"Nina, don't blame me. I have no choice. Sherman's new girlfriend they were classmates through his Master's and PhD programs. They're a perfect match in every way. I just I can't let such a perfect marriage fall apart."
"You know how much Sherman has always cared for you. If if he finds out the truth about what happened back then, I'm afraid I'm afraid he'll"
"So, could you please just avoid him for a little while? I mean you're dying, aren't you? It's not like you should be going out much anyway."
The word "dying" hung in the air. My mother, who had been quietly organizing my medical supplies, slammed a package of adult diapers onto the bed in a flash of fury. Seeing the rage in her eyes, I quickly grabbed her arm, my touch a weak, placating gesture. Only then did I turn back to Shermans mother, my voice steady.
"I can promise you I won't tell Sherman the truth about what happened seven years ago," I said. "But I can't promise I won't see him."
I couldn't.
For seven brutal years, there wasn't a single moment I didn't think of him.
When the chemo became unbearable, I would clutch the old photo of us, his arm slung around my shoulder, and somehow find the strength to endure. I went through dozens of surgeries. More than once, I was rushed to the ICU, and I almost didn't wake up.
It was my mothers voice that pulled me back. She would stand by my bedside, screaming until her voice was raw.
"Nina, don't you remember? You promised you would live! You promised you would go find him and clear up the misunderstanding yourself!"
"You said that when you got better, I would take you to him! If you die, you will never see Sherman again!"
Her desperate cries, always with his name, were the lifeline that dragged me back from the edge, time and time again.
But in the end, I still lost the fight.
And Sherman he had a new life now. A new girlfriend. A new future.
Still, in the little time I had left, couldn't I just be near him for a while? That's why, when the doctor told me leaving the hospital was a death sentence, I pushed myself out of bed anyway. I had to. I knew he was home.

2
I thought that would be the end of it. But after sending Sherman's mother away, I drifted into an exhausted sleep. When I woke up, I heard his voice coming from the living room.
I was surprised. Seven years ago, his hatred for me was a physical thing. He had stood outside my door for three days and three nights, waiting for a chance to grab me by the throat and demand to know why Id betrayed him.
When Id finally sobbed that I just didn't love him anymore, hed shattered the hallway window with a single, bloody punch.
He hadn't laid a hand on me, but his disgust was a wall between us. If he saw me in the hallway, he would turn and walk the other way. He stopped going to the little corner store we used to love. The mere mention of my name would make him scowl. "Why are you talking about Nina? The name makes me sick."
The day he left for the airport, I ran through a downpour just to see him one last time. He saw me, and a bitter sneer crossed his face. He took off the matching ring wed bought together, pulled out his phonethe one filled with all our photosand smashed them both on the ground at my feet. Then he walked away without a backward glance.
And yet, here he was. In my house.
Peeking through the crack in my bedroom door, I understood.
He was holding his fiances hand.
"Mom," he was saying to my mother, "is it because of what happened seven years ago? Is that why you won't let Nina help me pick out a wedding planner, or rings?"
"It's okay. I'm over her. We grew up together, after all. If we can't be lovers, we can at least be friends."
His fiance, Sophie, chimed in, her voice sweet. "It's true. Sherman told me all about what happened with Nina. I know she cheated, but they were young. It takes two to tango. I'm sure Sherman wasn't perfect either."
She smiled brightly. "Besides, I should thank her! If she hadn't given up on Sherman, I never would have met such a wonderful man."
"So really, there's no need to dwell on the past. And it was my idea to ask for her help. We've been out of the country for so long, we don't know anything about the vendors here. And, well letting our parents decide everything their taste is a little dated."
Seven years ago, my greatest wish was for Sherman to forget me, to move on.
But now, hearing him talk about it all so calmly, hearing that he had told his new girlfriend everything a thousand tiny needles pricked at my heart.
My mother, however, was not so composed. Hearing Sophie's passive-aggressive digs, her face flushed with a deep, furious red. Her lips trembled.
"You're just as shameless as your mother!" she finally roared at Sherman.
My heart seized. I pushed myself up. "Mom!" I called out, my voice weak. "Come in here. Help me into my wheelchair. I'll talk to him myself."

3
My mother came in, her expression still stormy. But when she saw me sitting up, the fight seemed to drain out of her.
I reached out and hugged her. "Please, Mom," I whispered. "Just let me have this. It's my last wish."
Her eyes welled with tears, but she, who had always indulged me, went to my vanity. She brought back my lipstick, my wig, and helped me into my jacket.
The moment she wheeled me out, Sherman's brow furrowed.
"What is wrong with you?" he said, his voice sharp. "You were always so dramatic as a kid, and you're even worse now. It's just a broken leg. Your mom is not young. Do you have to make her wait on you hand and foot?"
The disgust on his face was plain to see.
I just smiled faintly. "The doctor said it's a bad break. I'm not supposed to put any weight on it for a while."
Sophie stepped forward. "Don't mind Sherman," she said with a dismissive wave. "He's just used to being blunt from his time abroad. He's like this with everyone except me."
Another pang of bitterness shot through me. It was true, he was always gruff. But with me, he used to be
I pushed the thought away and looked at Sophie. "Are you sure you want my help?"
"Of course, of course!" she chirped.
After a few more minutes of strained small talk, I sent them on their way.
That evening, Sherman called. He told me to be ready tomorrow morning; we were going to see the wedding planner.
My fingers gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. I was greedy for the sound of his voice, but terrified at the same time. It had been seven years since I'd heard him like this, just the two of us on the phone. Back then, I used to fall asleep every night to the low, comforting rumble of his voice in my ear.
I was lost in the memory when a woman's voice shattered the silence from his end. "Sherman, come dry my hair"
I snapped back to reality and managed a quick, "Okay."
The moment I answered, he hung up.
Listening to the dead dial tone, tears I didn't know I was holding back began to fall. I knew this was coming. But seeing it, hearing it knowing he belonged to someone else now the pain was a physical, aching thing.

4
Sherman had told me to be ready at 10 a.m.
I was so anxious that I had my mom wheel me downstairs at 9:30.
We waited. And waited.
By noon, he still hadn't shown up. When I tried to call, he declined it.
My mother tried to coax me back inside several times, but I refused. Getting out of the house had taken every last ounce of my strength. I knew that after this, I might never leave again.
Finally, at 1 p.m., he called. They were coming down.
My mom was furious, but I pleaded with her until she managed to paste on a neutral expression.
As soon as I was in the car, Sophie turned to me with a saccharine smile. "Sorry about that, Nina. Sherman and I were up a little too late last night. I just couldn't drag myself out of bed this morning."
My hand clenched in my lap.
Sherman, after stowing my wheelchair in the trunk, glanced at me in the rearview mirror as he got into the driver's seat. "Why are you explaining anything to her?" he said coldly to Sophie.
The familiar ache returned. I just turned and waved to my mom through the window.
He drove fast, the car lurching in a way that made my stomach churn. I bit my lip and endured it. I remembered how it used to be. After he got his license, he would always borrow his dad's car to take me out. He knew I got carsick, so he drove so smoothly, so carefully. I got sick in taxis, on buses, but never, not once, in his car.
He slammed on the brakes, and my weak body was thrown hard against the back of the seat. A wave of nausea washed over me, and a small whimper escaped my lips.
From the front seat, I heard his mocking laugh.
"You don't actually think I'm still going to drive carefully for you, do you, Nina? No sudden stops, no speeding up?"
I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. "No," I said, my voice quiet. "You should be careful for Sophie. She's your girlfriend now."
"You're damn right she is," he sneered, and stomped on the accelerator.
My body slammed back into the seat again, my back screaming in protest.
But I smiled.
At least there was hate. At least, while I was still alive, I occupied some small, dark corner of his heart.

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