Page 153 of Ghost Ribbon

Alexei walked out. He was shirtless. His hair was messy from sleep, falling into his face in dark, disheveled strands.

He looked around the room and he saw me.

His face changed and the sleepiness vanished. The soft expression that had been there a moment ago was replaced by panic.

My eyes were teary. The tears didn’t stop. I couldn’t make them stop. I couldn’t wipe them away fast enough.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

Two people.

One who was dying.

One who had offered to die instead.

Alexei reached me, his hands coming up to my face, his thumbs brushing under my eyes where the tears were still falling.

“Why are you crying?”

I looked at the face of the man who asked someone to cut his heart out of his chest and give it to me. “Is it true?”

I saw the confusion on his face. “You took a test… for a heart transplant.”

His eyes changed. They went from surprise to anger.

The anger wasn’t directed at me but I could see he was nearly fuming. “Who told you that?” he asked.

“That’s not important, Alexei!” My voice rose.

I never yelled at him. At the beginning it was because I was scared he would kill me, but later on I just never felt the need to raise my voice at him. But I yelled now.

“How could you even think that?”

His jaw clenched harder. The muscles in his neck tightened. His eyes went flat and I knew he was holding something back. “How could I not?”

“You would die!” The words tore out of me. “You would die, Alexei! You would…they would take your heart out of your chest and put it in mine and you would…you would be dead, you would be gone, you would be—” the sentence collapsed. The words wouldn’t come anymore because the throat they were trying to pass through closed. I felt like a stone sat there.

“Yes, but you wouldn’t!” His voice was loud now, matching mine.

I flinched and my shoulders drew in.

Alexei saw it and the fury - whatever was left of it - drained. His voice softened. “You wouldn’t,” he repeated.

I shook my head. “Alexei…” His name came out broken.

“No,” he said. “You… just let me do this, okay?”

He wasn’t asking permission but requesting compliance, and while I was naturally obedient, I would never submit to this request.

“I owe you this much,” he added and I furrowed my eyebrows.

“You don’t owe me anything.” What was there to owe me? I’d argue that I was the one who owed him, not just money but also the time and patience he invested in me all this time.

“How do I not? Aren’t I part of the reason for all of this!?”

I blinked and the confusion took over my face. “Why would you be the reason?”