Dinner was quiet—too quiet. The kind of quiet that fills your ears with every clink of a fork and every tick of the wall clock like they're screaming.
Maya picked at her food. Chicken. Mashed potatoes. Steamed broccoli. Everything on the plate was familiar. None of it tasted like anything. Her parents talked, something about Aunt Gloria's new obsession with conspiracy documentaries and a raccoon infestation. She tried to smile. It came out crooked.
Her mom finally paused. "Maya, honey, are you okay? You've barely touched anything."
"I'm fine," she said quickly, stabbing at her broccoli like it owed her money.
Her dad squinted. "You sure you're not getting sick again?"
She shook her head.
A long, stretching silence settled over the table before she blurted, "What happened the night of my accident?"
Both her parents froze like someone had hit pause on reality.
"What do you mean?" her dad asked carefully.
"I mean…" She put down her fork. Her fingers were cold. "What actually happened? You never really told me. Not in detail."
Her mom looked at her dad, like they were trying to pass the emotional bomb between them.
Her father sighed, set down his glass of water. "You were brought in with massive internal trauma. Your lungs had collapsed, and your heart was… failing. They rushed you into surgery, but they said even if they managed to stabilize you, your heart wasn't going to make it."
Maya swallowed. "So I died."
He hesitated. "Technically, yes. You flatlined. For a few minutes. They were about to call it when—when a donor match appeared."
Her mom took over, voice softer. "There was another girl. Her car had crashed into yours. They said she was dying already, and when her mother realized you were the only chance to keep part of her daughter alive…" She trailed off.
"She signed the papers," her dad said. "They harvested the heart immediately. No time for cooling or transport. It was a direct transplant, right there in the hospital."
Maya's breath caught. "That fast?"
"Sometimes," he said slowly, "if the donor and recipient are both already in surgery and the blood types, tissue typing, and size match… it's possible. Rare, but possible. Your heart had failed. Hers hadn't. So the surgeons moved instantly."
Her mom added, "The transplant team did what they had to do to save you."
"Her name was Sammy," Maya whispered. "
Her dad blinked. "How do you—?"
"I met her mother."
Silence again. Heavy. This time, it didn't go away.
"She said she didn't want two girls dying that night," her father said finally. "She wanted her daughter's heart to keep beating in someone else. She wanted to give it meaning."
Maya stood up slowly, her chair scraping back. "Excuse me."
She walked upstairs before they could stop her, into the silence of her bedroom, where the shadows knew better than to ask questions. She sank to the floor and stared at the ceiling like it might have the answers she couldn't bear to say out loud.
Her phone buzzed.
Eddie.
She let it ring.
It buzzed again.
And again.
She finally picked up after the fifth call, trying to keep her voice steady. "Hey."
"Where've you been?" His voice was tight. Worried. "I've been calling for hours."
"Sorry. I was in the shower."
He was quiet for a second. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. Just tired. Stayed up doing some research."
She gave a soft laugh, practiced and light. But even she could hear the hollowness in it.
"You sound… different."
"I'm just sleepy," she said. "Relax, Edd."
But Eddie didn't relax. He was gripping his phone like it might explode. He didn't sleep that night either. Not really. He kept turning over that one gnawing question in his mind:
What if she knows?
—
The next morning, Maya walked through the school hallway like a designer hurricane.
Black leather boots that hit just below the knee, deep wine-colored blazer, subtle gold jewelry glinting in the fluorescent lights. Hair curled like she'd just stepped off a movie set, lips painted with the kind of dangerous red that whispered, don't mess with me unless you're ready to bleed.
Sally and Luna were at her side. They didn't say much. They didn't need to. They knew.
She was loud again. Laughing. Tossing her hair. Giving compliments and insults in equal measure.
A queen with her crown superglued on.
But Eddie could feel it. Even across the hallway.
Something in her was… too composed. Like a doll sitting perfectly upright in a burning house.
He walked up to her at her locker. "Hey."
She turned, smiled wide. "Hey, stranger."
Then she kissed him. No hesitation. No warning.
It was sweet. Confident. But there was something underneath it—something frantic. Like she was trying to prove something. Or hide it.
He didn't kiss back right away.
She pulled back, pretending not to notice.
"You good?" she asked, cocking her head.
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just—wanna get out of here?"
She shut her locker. "Lead the way, edd."
He took her to the hill.
The place they'd been once before. Quiet. Wind sweeping through the grass like it carried secrets.
They sat on the hood of his car, staring at the horizon.
Maya swung her legs slowly. Pretending the air didn't feel like glass against her skin. Pretending the silence wasn't loud.
"How was she?"
Eddie blinked. "What?"
She didn't look at him. "Sammy."
He stiffened.
Maya tilted her head slightly, as if she was genuinely curious, like this was casual.
"She was your girlfriend, right?"
"Yeah," he said carefully.
"So… what was she like?"
He looked down. "She was… smart. Like scary smart. Always had this way of saying the exact thing I didn't want to hear but needed to."
Maya stayed silent.
"She had this laugh," he added, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Loud. Like yours."
She heard it—the way his voice cracked.
"She used to wrinkle her nose when she was concentrating," he said softly.
Maya's blood ran cold.
"She'd get annoyed when I wouldn't text back fast enough. Loved strawberry milk. Hated the color green. But she wore it anyway because her mom liked it."
His eyes glassed over.
That's when Maya realized.
He wasn't looking at her.
He was looking through her.
And it hit her like a freight train.
"Oh my God," she breathed. "You don't love me."
Eddie froze. "What—"
"You love her," she said, voice trembling. "You've been with me this whole time… because I have her heart."
He stood up. "Maya, no, that's not—"
"Is that why you kissed me?" she asked. "Because I laugh like her? Because I wrinkle my nose like her? Because your dead girlfriend's fucking heartbeat is inside my body?"
Eddie opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
"Say something!" she screamed.
He stared at her.
Silent.
That silence shattered her.
"I can't believe this," she whispered. "All of this… every second we spent together. It was never about me. It was about her. You were using me to keep her alive."
She backed away, her hands shaking. "You didn't fall in love with Maya Sinclair. You fell in love with a ghost in my chest."
Then she turned.
And left.
He didn't follow.
Because for once, he didn't have a single excuse.
And that silence?
It was louder than anything he'd ever heard.