My hands were shaking badly after I finish reading. And my tears had dripped all over the letter. But apparently, Puffy had her share of crying and had the wits to use water-proof (and tear-proof) ink that did not smudge.

I lived on, as she wanted me to. I lived quite contentedly. I became an excellent basketballer, if I may say so myself. I did my best to live up her expectations. But I seldom felt real joy. I also tried dating other girls. Some did pumped hot blood to my heart. But each time that happened, it was as if I hear the heart calling out “I love you, Lolly”.

And often at dark nights when I listen to the new heart my body had accepted so willingly even without medication, I would think, could this be her heart? But I’d checked by every possible mean, no doctors would legally use a heart donated to a patient in need unless the heart belonged to someone who already had appointments with the Grim Reaper. So unless Puffy was indeed a certified breathing dead person, there would be no way the doctor would operate on her, no matter how she would ask for it.

I’d been just who I wanted to be. I tasted the wind as I ran. I felt the rush of air when I pushed my body to the extreme. I ate lollipops like as if I had an addiction for them, which I do. I had no obstacles. None.

Until the day I saw him.

Sonic was pretty much the opposite of her. Sonic was a really sturdy fellow who seemed to have no emotions what-so-ever on his face. I did not know him by the face, nor him me. But his name struck a familiar tone in my head that I had to ask if he was related to my love.

When I told him of my name, he literally went purple. He grabbed me by the collar and pinned me to the ball, his free hand already closing to a tight ball. His eyes bulged and he clenched his jaws so tightly that for a second I was reminded of the scary way Puffy had glared at her waker that one time. Then he took many deep breaths and his fist relaxed gradually.

He made a move that startled me. He placed his hand softly on my chest, and felt my racing heart. Then he snapped at me to take deep breaths and relax. I tried to, worried what this man was about to do. He then pressed his ears right above my racing heart.

“She loved watching Pirates of Caribbean. She once laughingly told me that she wanted to carve out her heart and place it in a glass bottle to be gifted to the man she loved.”

“You mean Puffy?”

“She asked you to call her that? That was the baby name she hated. She said Puffy sounded babyish. She must had trusted you a lot to ask that of you.”

“She said all her close friends called her Puffy.”

“Well, she never had any close friends outside the family.”

“Where is she now?”

He gave me a strange look and poked my chest.

“There. Right there.”

“What do you mean?”

“She said she’ll live in your heart forever. That was her dying words.”

“She’s dead?! When?!”

“So she did plan it thoroughly enough…”

“I thought she went overseas for treatment, couldn’t they cure her then?”

“She never f***ing went overseas. She died giving you her heart. It’s all because of you.”

“NO! Impossible! I checked. The doctor could never operate on a living person, even if they demand for it, no professional doctor is allowed to claim another person’s heart if they still had the chance to live.”

“She always was the genius of the family. She convinced the doctor that she had brain tumour.”

“NO! The doctor would had checked.”

“Oh, he did check. But in the rush to operate in time, he only confirmed the authenticity of the documents.”

“And she had brain tumour so he operated?”

“SHE NEVER HAD BRAIN TUMOUR!”

“But…then…”

“She wrote in her diary how she tried to will herself to get a terminal illness. So when she was beginning to have headaches, she tried to convince herself and her body that she had brain tumour. Of course, the cells would not sudden get cancerous just because her mind kept thinking so. But she did get a check up in the hospital.”

“What was she diagnosed with?”

“The scan showed that everything was fine. But she managed to coax a nurse to get her a result of someone with real tumour so she could compare results to make sure that the doctor was not lying just to reassure her. The nurse thinking Puffy had just watched too many soap opera decided to entertain her, never thinking that Puffy would use those documents to persuade your doctor into believing that she was going to die of brain tumour anyway. That’s why your idiotic doctor sliced her up. For just in case, she stabbed herself purely to pressure the doctor into rushing both of you to surgery to make sure her fabrication won’t be discovered till it was all too late.”

“You mean, she planned all that…”

“I told you she was a f***ing genius!”

“All that just so I would accept her heart in me? What of her parents then, did she not worry they would be upset?”

“Mom and Dad were separated. I was with Dad, her with Mom. When Mom had a new boyfriend, Puffy swore she would never forgive any of us. Even me. She thought we all betrayed the family bonds. She never did love us the way she loved you, I guess.”

“But…”

“No buts! I used to hate her for being with mom cause mom was so carefree when dad controlled me with such short leash. When she died, our mourning did bring us closer than we ever had been. She got what she wanted, at the expense of her life. She said in her diary that it mattered not, for she had intended to suicide the day mom filed for a divorce with dad.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“F*** you. What’s the point of it all? Just take good care of your heart, and don’t disappoint her, no matter what she made you promise her. Whatever promises she asked of people, she only asked it for the other’s good, not her own.”

“I never knew she might be so good with strategy, she always sucked in Chess.”

“Oh no, she’s the best when it comes to chessing human, and Life.”

The conversation made me felt better, and worse.

It’s good to know I really did have her heart. It’s bad to know she gave up her life for mine. It’s good to know too, when I read the diary the brother gave me, I had ended her misery of living. It’s bad though to know that I could not look forward to the one time I could hold her in my arms and kiss her now that I have heart that could withstand that Joy and excitement. It’s good to know I saved her from her worst fear: losing her love. It’s bad that I am the one to bear that burden.

It’s good to know that you no longer had forlorn eyes, my dear 4 Lone_Ice. You never told me your troubles, just wrote all your sorrow into your soggy diary, so withered from all the tears you poured into them. But at least I solved that, without even knowing, my dear Poppy. And to think I believed it was just associated to some lost love of yours, never realizing that a great girl like you had your first love on silly old me. All these time. 4 Lone_Ice. Forlorn eyes. Why did I not see the connection when so many times those were the eyes looking at me?

But among all, it’s best to sleep every night, hearing my (and her) heart thumping. She’s singing me a soft lullaby to sleep.

“Thump… thump… dumb dumb, I love you!... Thump thump… Lolly, Poppy loves you!”

And I could sleep with a smile on my face knowing the next day I would wake up to her heart greeting its love for me.