Chapter 6
I might not look pretty when I die, but I doubt she’ll be scared. After all, it will be our last moment in this world together. Maybe she’ll forgive me for this final surprise.
I returned to the old house beside St. Mary’s Home for Children. I don’t know how Alexander will react when he learns the truth. Honestly, I no longer care.
With Max, my golden retriever, at my side, I came back to the house where I grew up. I was an orphan, raised in the children’s home. The first time I left was for college – that’s where I met Alexander on my very first day. Now those memories feel heavy, like stones in my pocket.
The yard was overgrown, as tangled as my past. As I cleared away the weeds, it felt like I
was clearing away years of pain. With each patch of ground I cleaned, the weight of my approaching death lifted slightly,
Then I heard footsteps on the porch. “Sarah, honey… is that really you?”
I turned to see Miss Margaret, her silver hair catching the evening light, joy brightening her
weathered face.
“Miss Margaret.”
The familiar warmth of her presence washed over me. I suddenly realized I wasn’t
completely alone. She had guided me through my darkest years as a teenager, keeping me on track when so many other foster kids lost their way.
Seeing her – truly seeing her – broke something inside me. My carefully maintained composure crumbled, and I started to cry.
She didn’t ask what had happened. She was afraid of stirring up painful memories. Instead, she made her famous pot roast my childhood favorite and smiled as she watched me eat every bite.
Days passed quietly. I often found myself at the old stone bridge where I used to watch the sunset and dream about my future. The mountains rose through the morning mist, tiny
The Heart I Gave. The Love |
Chapter 6
figures moving far below like ants. The mountains seemed so tall, and people so small in comparison.
Then everything changed. A simple social media post brought my story back into the spotlight:
“Met an interesting client today – tall, elegant young woman looking for a burial plot. She wanted one with a beautiful view and plenty of sunlight. When I asked if it was for a family member, she said it was for herself. My heart just broke… #Funeral Director #Life”
The post included a photo of my profile. Blurry, but recognizable.
The post went viral. Before, I was just the gold–digger who abandoned the famous. Alexander Morgan. Now people sensed there was more to the story. They started digging deeper into my past.
Another post surfaced: “Young woman came in asking about sunflowers for her funeral. Said they always face the light, so they’d help her find warmth in the darkness. Later found out she was planning her own funeral. Still can’t stop thinking about her. #HeartBreaking”
That’s when everyone realized I was dying.
Social media’s tide turned immediately:
“OMG, his ex–wife is dying? Maybe she went to that party just to see him one last time ?” “What if she needed the money for treatment? This is devastating…”
Then came the bombshell my artificial heart transplant history was revealed by a doctor.
–
The internet went silent.
My former physician broke his silence: “Ms. Lane donated her heart, accepted an artificial replacement, and left without letting us tell the recipient her identity. She shouldered this
burden alone…”
“With an artificial heart, her body can’t handle alcohol. I pray she recovers…”
The deeper people dug, the more sympathy grew. Nobody believed I was heartless anymore
14:50
Chapter 5
literally or figuratively.
Finally, the surgeon who removed my heart came forward with the whole story.
