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Yet me?
I’d somehow been afflicted by a condition no one could label or cure.
“I’ve been keeping a heart diary, like you told me last time we met. I can’t pinpoint anything that has a theme. Some months I get them often and some none at all.”
“How about lately?”
“They’re not as frequent, I will admit.”
And how could I say that that scared me? If I did feel them from Aslan, what did it mean that they were few and far between these days?
Was he better?
Was he dead?
It means you’ve lost your bloody mind, Nerida, that’s what!
When are you going to stop doing this?
When are you going to finally accept that he’s gone?
He’s dead.
He’s been dead for four fucking years!
You’re deluding yourself.
You’re looking for truths when the only one is...you’re delusional!
Anger blazed through me. Self-hatred. Frustration.
I was so sick of feeling like this.
Of wallowing in denial and clinging to the blind belief that Aslan would appear one day on our front lawn. I could picture it so clearly. I could feel him so intensely. I could touch him in my nightmares and hear him in my daydreams.
He was everywhere.
All around me.
Inside me.
Still.
I saw him at the supermarket.
I heard him on the docks.
I caught glimpses of him when I gave interviews, and swore I saw him driving away from Bunnings the last time I went to buy more marine-grade bolts for our latest prototype.
It stabbed me in the chest each and every time.
It made me choke on tears.
It made me hear that awful pop, pop, pop all over again.
I just needed it to stop.
I needed to move on.
I needed to be healed.
I was finally ready to say enough!
Ayla was three now. She’d grown into a gorgeous little girl who bewitched me body and soul. She whispered to Aslan in the shells she gathered from the beach, doing what I taught her with the shell Aslan had lost. She cried over dead jellyfish washed up on the sand and squealed in absolute glee when I started taking her swimming with Sapphire and her pod.
She completed me.
She was me.
I was whole when I was with her.
Yet when I wasn’t with her, Aslan would come for me. He’d crowd my thoughts and suffocate me with everything that I’d lost and everything I stubbornly held on to.
It’s not healthy.
It’s killing me.
I can’t—
“Ms. Avci...Nerida?” The doctor leaned forward and patted my knee. “Is everything alright?”
I blinked.
My painful fury siphoned away, vanishing into a dirty drain by my feet, gurgling and swirling, ready to crash back over me the moment I was on my own. “Is there...I mean...I’ve read online about scientific evidence of a sixth sense between twins. They can sometimes detect when another is hurt, even pinpointing the location of pain. Some are said to be mildly telepathic.”
He frowned. “You’re saying you have a twin?”
“No. I’m an only child.”
“Then why are you asking about the twin phenomenon?” He cocked his head and reached for a pen, fiddling with it.
My courage fled, and I almost told him to forget it, but with a quick blurt, I said, “Is it possible for someone to share that same phenomenon with a loved one? Someone not related but someone they were extremely close to?”
He leaned back in his chair. “You’re suggesting that your palpitations are caused by second-hand awareness? That you can feel someone you love having heart irregularities?”
When he said it like that?
In that slightly surprised, slightly scornful tone?
It made me fold in on myself and sigh. “No. I’m just...tired, I guess.”
“Poor quality sleep can definitely contribute to A-fib.” Clicking his pen, he reached for his prescription pad. “How about I give you a short dose of sleeping tablets and see if that—”
“I’m fine. I don’t need sleeping pills.”
Sounds like you need a psychiatrist.
Perhaps, I should call the therapist who’d helped me after what Ethan had done.
Either way, I needed help.
I accepted that.
I couldn’t keep lying to myself and everyone else.
I couldn’t keep believing I felt twitchy and wrong just because Aslan was still alive and calling for me.
This has gone on long enough.
You know that.
Four years and nothing.
Not one sign he was still alive.
Not one news article that Cem Kara had found his missing heir.
No one knew I was here at this appointment.
No one knew my heart played a pounding tune on my ribs or its random flutters made me breathless.
No one knew because I didn’t tell anyone.
As far as they were aware, I was fine.
Better than fine.
I’d convinced everyone I was like them.
Moving on.
And in reality, I was sinking.
Deeper and deeper.
Quicker and quicker.
Into madness.
Standing quickly, I balled my hands. “Thank you for taking the time to go over my results, Dr. Hammond.”
He stood too, placing my file on his desk. “If you’re truly worried, we could perhaps put you on a course of beta blockers. They regulate your system and can even help with anxiety—”
