His Second Heart

The day I was finally welcomed back into the Salazar family, Nathaniel Salazar—the frail adopted son they'd raised in my place—died from heart failure. My sister, Alyssa, shaved her head and withdrew from the world, claiming she wanted to soothe Nathaniel's restless soul. My parents had lost two children in a single night, and they blamed me for both. To make amends, they decided my heart would one day be donated to a distant young relative suffering from the same condition. After all, that little boy had been Nathaniel's favorite person in the world. From that day on, I was forbidden from drinking, smoking, staying up late, or doing anything that might damage my health. They called it redemption for my brother. For ten years, I lived like a spare part, a replacement waiting for the day I would finally be needed. Then, three days before the transplant surgery, I saw Nathaniel in the hospital. He was alive. He was curled up against Alyssa's shoulder, acting spoiled while our parents watched with indulgent smiles. Alyssa gently stroked his hair. "Don't be scared, Nathaniel. Jordan's healthy heart will be yours soon. After this, you'll never be sick again." I lowered my eyes to the results of my pre-surgery examination: stage IV stomach cancer with multiple organ failure. Not a single organ was suitable for transplantation. Chapter 1 "Jordan Salazar, do you have any idea what time it is? You're still in bed?!" My mother, Patricia Salazar's furious pounding on the door jolted me awake. I struggled upright and glanced at the clock on my nightstand. My heart dropped. I was five minutes late! I threw on my clothes and washed up as fast as I could. The familiar burning in my stomach followed me like a shadow, a ball of fire twisting deeper inside with every movement. I ignored it and hurried downstairs. The first thing that greeted me was my mother's dark expression. Her voice was sharp with anger. "How many times have I told you? You run at six o'clock every morning and eat breakfast at seven sharp. "This is how you act as my son? This is how you're making up for what happened to your brother?" I lowered my head. My lips moved, but no words came out. "Do you think we're hurting you?" She stood and walked toward me before pressing a finger against my chest, right above my heart. "We're strict with you because we need you healthy. If you get careless for even a second and something happens to this heart, how are you going to answer Nathaniel? How are you going to answer to the family?" The same words. Always the same words. I'd heard them tens of thousands of times over the past decade. Ten years ago, on the day I was finally brought back to the Salazars, Nathaniel Salazar—the adopted son they had raised for eighteen years in my place—suddenly died from heart failure. My biological sister, Alyssa, was devastated. She said I'd killed my own brother. She withdrew from the world and devoted herself to prayer, spending her days seeking peace for Nathaniel's soul and vowing never to return to ordinary life. Overnight, my parents lost the son they loved most and the daughter they were proudest of. And somehow, all of it became my original sin. To make amends, they told me about a distant young relative suffering from severe heart disease who desperately needed a transplant. Years earlier, that boy had saved Nathaniel's life. They told me that if I gave him my heart, Nathaniel would finally forgive me. From that day forward, I stopped being a person. I became a walking organ donor. "Jordan, your mother only wants what's best for you." My father, Richard Salazar, folded his newspaper and stepped neatly into his usual role as peacemaker. "Everything we're doing is for your health. Don't worry. Once your heart is transplanted into your cousin, I'll make sure you get the best artificial heart in the world. You'll still live a long and active life afterward." A long and active life? I stared at the false warmth on his face as the pain in my stomach worsened. To end the daily trial as quickly as possible, I lowered my head and delivered the apology I'd repeated countless times before. "I'm sorry, Dad. Mom. I was wrong. It won't happen again." I'd hoped the apology might at least earn me breakfast. Instead, my mother let out a cold laugh. "If you make a mistake, you get punished. No breakfast today. Go think about what you've done. And while you're at it, think about how Nathaniel died." My heart sank. The cramping in my stomach became so intense that my vision flickered at the edges. I simply nodded, picked up my bag, and left for school on an empty stomach. The entire morning passed in a blur. The words on the board and in my textbooks dissolved into meaningless symbols drifting across my vision. The burning in my stomach only grew worse. Cold sweat soaked through my shirt and clung to my back. By the time the lunch bell finally rang, I practically ran out of the classroom toward the cafeteria. I just wanted to buy a plain bread roll. "Jordan!" Ms. Michelle Ramirez, my homeroom teacher, called from behind me. "Come to my office for a moment." My footsteps stopped. A terrible feeling settled over me. When I walked into the office, I saw my mother sitting across from my teacher. Why was she here? I approached carefully, my voice barely a whisper. "Mom, what are you doing here?" The answer came in the form of a sharp slap across my face. Smack. Chapter 2 My cheek burned, and my ears rang. "What did I tell you? I told you to study hard and pay attention in class! "This is how you repay me? This is how you make amends? "You woke up five minutes late this morning, and now you're zoning out in class too! "You're doing this on purpose! You're deliberately trying to upset me, Jordan Salazar!" My mother's furious voice echoed through the tiny office. "What kind of sin did I commit in my past life? Your father and I worked so hard to raise you, and this is what we get in return? An ungrateful child like you!" Ms. Ramirez hurried over to hold my mother back, then shot me a look. "Jordan, apologize to your mother. She's only doing this for your own good." The pain in my stomach and the pain in my face tangled together until I felt like I was on the verge of breaking down. I didn't even know what I'd done wrong this time, but like a puppet with its strings pulled, I instinctively repeated the words I'd said countless times before. "Mom, I'm sorry. I was wrong." My mother's anger eased slightly. After scolding me a few more times, she finally allowed Ms. Ramirez to escort her out. I remained standing there blankly until Ms. Ramirez let out a sigh and explained, "During math class, I saw you lying on your desk and thought you weren't feeling well, so I called your mother..." So that was it. I stood outside the school gates, my legs feeling as heavy as lead. On my left was the bakery I'd been visiting for years. For nearly ten years, I'd bought plain bread there. Paired with the pickles I brought from home, that counted as a meal. On my right was a KFC, the aroma drifting out through the doors. The scent of fried chicken forced its way into my nose, stirring an even deeper emptiness and pain in my stomach. I was dying anyway. Soon, my heart wouldn't belong to me anymore. Thinking of the Stage IV stomach cancer diagnosis hidden in my schoolbag, what difference would eating it just once make? The moment that thought appeared, I couldn't suppress it anymore. I tightened my grip around the few bills in my pocket. It was the money I had left after buying my mother a birthday present. Now, I just wanted to buy myself one final meal. I walked into KFC almost mechanically. The restaurant was crowded and noisy, and the bright lights made me feel strangely out of place. I stopped in front of the counter and stared at the colorful pictures on the menu, completely at a loss. Under the urging of the customers waiting behind me, I carefully ordered the cheapest meal on the board. "Just this?" The cashier looked at me strangely. Maybe my school uniform didn't belong in a place like this. I nodded without looking at her. The wait for my food felt unbearably long. The pain in my stomach came in waves. But I didn't care. All my attention was fixed on the fried chicken that would soon be mine. "Order 29! Your meal is ready!" I carried the tray with trembling hands and sat down in a corner. Golden, crispy fried chicken, hot fries, and a cup of ice-cold Coke. I'd seen these things countless times on television. I remembered one time when I'd finished first in my class. Holding my perfect exam paper, I'd worked up the courage to ask my parents for a reward. I told them I wanted to try KFC just once. What I got in return was my mother's furious scolding. "That's junk food! Don't you know how unhealthy fried food is? Do you want your heart to become unhealthy, too? Jordan, you're so selfish. All you ever think about is yourself!" I knew they weren't worried about my health. They were only afraid that this heart would be contaminated in some way. Then again, I'd spent nearly ten years eating plain bread and pickles, and to them, that was perfectly normal. Chapter 3 I picked up a piece of fried chicken and took a big bite. The crispy coating and tender meat blended in my mouth. It was a flavor I'd never experienced before—sinful and satisfying all at once. Before I realized it, tears had slipped down my face and fallen onto my fries. I wolfed down the food, as if trying to fill the emptiness and grievances of the past ten years all at once. Then suddenly, a familiar figure appeared in my line of sight. It was my sister, Alyssa Salazar. She was dressed in plain clothes, her long hair flowing over her shoulders. There was nothing about her that looked like someone who had withdrawn from the world. She spotted me immediately. Her gaze crossed the crowded restaurant and met mine. My heart leapt into my throat. I lowered my head and froze, the piece of fried chicken still suspended in my hand. She didn't come over. Instead, she took out her phone and quickly made a call. I couldn't make out what she was saying, but a sense of dread seized my heart so suddenly that I could barely breathe. After hanging up, she walked toward me, each step felt as though it were landing on my heart. "Jordan, who said you could eat this kind of food?" Her voice was cold, demanding an answer. I didn't answer and simply looked at her. The face that looked so much like mine was filled with disgust and distance. She seemed uncomfortable under my gaze and looked away. "Our nephew is having surgery soon. I came back from the convent to check on him." The convent? I almost laughed. Just yesterday, when I had gone to pick up my medical report, I had seen her myself at the far end of the hospital corridor. She had been holding Nathaniel in her arms, speaking to him gently. "Don't be scared, Nathaniel. Jordan's healthy heart will be yours soon. After that, you'll never suffer again." She had never withdrawn from the world at all. The prayers and the years of mourning for Nathaniel's soul had all been another lie. She had simply moved to another city to stay by the side of the brother she loved while he received treatment. In our family, I was the only one living inside a lie. Before I could even finish the piece of chicken in my hand, Alyssa grabbed my arm and dragged me all the way home. The KFC meal that I'd barely managed to eat half of was thrown into a roadside trash can without hesitation. The moment the front door opened, my parents were already waiting for me. Their faces were twisted with anger. Smack! Another slap. This time it landed on the other side of my face, but both cheeks burned all the same. My mother's shouting followed immediately after. "You've got some nerve now, Jordan! We told you not to eat this stuff, and you insisted on sneaking a bite anyway! "Are you trying to ruin your heart on purpose? Do you want to see this entire family suffer? Is that what would make you happy?" My father spoke next, "What have we been teaching you for the last ten years? We taught you to atone for your sins, to live without desires or indulgence. "Did all of that go in one ear and out the other? How are you going to face Nathaniel? How are you going to face Alyssa, who spent all these years praying for you?" I stood there blankly. The pain in my stomach and the humiliation on my face had left me almost numb. When my mother saw that I still hadn't apologized, she stepped forward and shoved me hard. With a soft clatter, a tube of lipstick flew out of my school uniform pocket. It rolled across the polished floor, glaringly out of place. The living room fell into dead silence. Everyone's eyes landed on the lipstick. The next second, my mother's anger exploded completely. She pointed at me and screamed ear-piercingly, "You shameless little thing! Instead of focusing on school, you've started messing around with this kind of garbage?" She turned to my father as though she had finally found proof of every crime I'd ever committed. "I heard from his teacher a few days ago that he's been getting close to a girl in his class recently! So that's why he hasn't been able to focus. He wants to follow those delinquent kids and start dating!" "Jordan, have you no shame at all? The surgery is only a few days away, and look at what you've been doing! "We raised you and educated you for ten years, and not only do you refuse to repay us, but now you want to disgrace the Salazars too!" Chapter 4 Every accusation cut into me like a knife. In that moment, all the numbness shattered, leaving behind nothing but overwhelming injustice and hurt. I looked at the lipstick. The tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over. My voice trembled as I explained quietly, "Today... It's your birthday, Mom. This was the birthday gift I bought for you." I'd saved that money little by little from my part-time jobs. It had taken me a long time to afford it. I thought that if my mother wore it, she would look beautiful. My mother's scolding stopped abruptly. She froze, and something flickered through her eyes. Sadly, it lasted only a second before the coldness returned. Without looking at me, she said stiffly, "We've discussed it. The surgery has been moved up to tomorrow. That way, you won't have the chance to cause any more trouble." Tomorrow. I felt nothing, not even fear. Only regret. Regret that I hadn't finished that piece of fried chicken, and that I hadn't been able to hand over the birthday gift myself. The next day, my parents and Alyssa brought me to the hospital. The identity they'd prepared for Nathaniel—as a distant nephew of the family—was already in place, and everything was proceeding exactly according to their plans. I was taken for my final pre-operative examination. When Dr. Daniel Ortega stepped out of the office holding the report, his expression was troubled. He looked at my parents and Alyssa. "Mr. and Mrs. Salazar, the situation has changed somewhat. Jordan's physical condition… His heart currently does not meet the requirements for transplantation." The three of them exploded immediately. "Doesn't meet the requirements? How could it not meet the requirements?!" My mother was the first to lose control. She rushed forward and grabbed my collar. "Was it because of that junk food you ate yesterday? Or did you deliberately ruin your health yourself? "We fed you well, took care of you, made sure you kept a regular schedule, exercised regularly. How could your heart possibly fail the requirements?" Alyssa turned toward me angrily as well. "Jordan, I never thought you'd rather destroy yourself than save someone's life." My father pointed at me, shaking with anger. "Get down on your knees right now! Get down and apologize to Nathaniel! You sinner!" I looked at their hysterical expressions and only found it absurd. For ten years, I'd survived on bread and pickled gherkins every single day. They had never noticed how thin I'd become or how exhausted I looked. They had never cared about me. They only cared about the heart that would one day belong to Nathaniel. I slowly raised my head and met their disbelieving eyes. For the first time in my life, my voice was completely calm. "Nathaniel? Isn't he still alive? What exactly are you still pretending for? My heart was always meant for him, wasn't it?"