My wife, Cassandra, knew I could resurrect every time I died. So after that accident, she didn’t hesitate. She ripped out my heart to save Julian, her true love. When the doctors presented my empty shell of a body to her… She simply said, “Just get some sleep. You’ll be fine.” But she had no idea. That was my very last chance to resurrect. Cassandra carried my body into the basement of the Emergency Response Team headquarters. My organs had already been removed, leaving nothing but an empty shell. My face looked peaceful, almost rosy, as if I were just sleeping. She casually opened the cryogenic chamber, her movements precise and practiced. As she placed me inside, her hands were steady, not a flicker of hesitation. “Just sleep for now,” her voice was eerily calm. “Didn’t you always say it didn’t matter if you died?” Yesterday was our wedding anniversary. I’d cooked a feast at home, even bought her favorite Cabernet Sauvignon. Seeing her home on time, a rare treat, made me grin like an idiot. Her phone rang just as she raised her wine glass. It was her second-in-command: “Captain, Julian got caught in a landslide during a patrol in the mountains. He’s trapped…” Her hand twitched, and the wine glass slipped, shattering on the floor. “How badly is he hurt?” Her voice was already hoarse. “Very badly. His internal organs…” She didn’t wait for him to finish, grabbed her jacket, and bolted. I reached out, grabbing her arm. “I’ll come too. I can help.” Her gaze flickered back to me, complex. Not sympathy, not concern, but pure calculation. By the time we arrived, he’d been pulled out, but his heart was severely damaged, and he needed a transplant, fast. She stared at Julian, unconscious on the stretcher, her fingers trembling. Those hands, usually as steady as a rock, were shaking violently now. It was a panic I’d never seen from her before. Then she looked at me. Her eyes were bloodshot. “I’m sorry,” she said. Before I could even process what she meant, a sharp pain exploded at the back of my neck. Before darkness consumed me, I saw her nod to the doctor. They’d planned this all along. As I was wheeled into the operating room, eerily, my soul seemed to detach, floating free from my body. I hovered, watching everything unfold. I saw her standing right beside the operating table, her face devoid of emotion as the surgeon’s scalpel sliced into me. Her eyes were blank, as if my body was just a tool to be discarded. “His organs are perfectly healthy, and the match is exact,” the doctor’s voice seemed to drift from a great distance. “More than enough to save Julian.” I watched my own heart being removed, placed in a cooling box, and whisked into the adjacent operating room. She followed the box out, not even sparing me a final glance. After she placed me in the cryogenic chamber, she sat nearby, working on some files, occasionally glancing up at me. I floated before her, desperate to see a flicker of guilt in her eyes. But her gaze passed right through me, settling on her phone. A message from the doctor: Surgery successful. He’s recovering well. A relieved smile touched her lips. She casually tossed my medical file aside and left the basement. The file lay open, starkly displaying: Organ Donor – Voluntary Donation. She couldn’t even bother to invent a believable lie. She simply assumed I’d be waking up soon anyway. But what she didn’t know was, this time, I wouldn’t be waking up ever again. Because that ability to resurrect? I’d used my last charge saving her friend the previous time.
My resurrection ability was real, no doubt about it. Three years ago, after that plane crash, I was the sole survivor. Just before they pulled me out of the wreckage, a voice whispered to me: You have three chances to resurrect. I used the first on myself, of course, to simply survive the crash. Cassandra was the Captain, leading the rescue efforts. Standing before the plane’s wreckage, a cold aura clung to her, a true warrior in every sense. I was curled up on a stretcher, shivering uncontrollably. She turned her face toward me, her dark eyes swept over me, as if they could see straight into my soul. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. “You’re safe now.” Her voice was deep and soothing, like a warm current washing over my heart. In that instant, I was utterly captivated. The voice had told me: Maintain a marriage with your fated one for three years, and you can stay in this world forever. Looking at the stern, beautiful woman before me, I decided to take a chance. At twenty-eight, it was the first time I’d ever wanted something so fiercely. Cassandra looked to be in her early thirties, tall, with a lean, strong physique honed by years of training. She was slender, yet every muscle was defined and powerful. She moved with a distinctive rhythm, a subtle grace born from rigorous training. Every time I passed the Emergency Response team headquarters, I could pick her out from her silhouette. I began approaching her, just as an ordinary guy. Every day, I’d bring coffee for the rescue team, and late-night snacks for those working overtime. I knew I was acting like a humble admirer, but I didn’t care. They said Cassandra never accepted favors from men easily. But my coffee, she took. She was always polite and kind, but she kept me at arm’s length. The team members felt sorry for me, saying I was blind to reality. “Cassandra never gives any man hope. Don’t waste your time,” they’d warn me. But what I didn’t tell them was, every time I’d “accidentally” stumble, she was always the first to steady me. She’d say “Be careful,” but her hand would linger on mine for just a moment too long. Until one day, I overheard her on the phone, her voice laced with an affection she called a man’s name. It was Julian, her former partner. They’d known each other for ages, so I heard. Julian was incredibly handsome. Everyone said they were a match made in heaven. I should have given up right then. But back then, I still had two chances left, and I was young and headstrong. I truly believed I could make it through those three years. If I’d known then that my second chance would be used to save her friend, and my third would be ended by her own hands, I would’ve stayed far, far away from her from the very beginning. But love, you know, makes you blind.
Julian was Cassandra’s partner from their early days as soldiers. Everyone in the rescue team knew they were once the most formidable duo. In missions demanding perfect synergy, an observer and an operative had to be so in sync, almost telepathic, to succeed. So after their discharge, Cassandra and Julian joined the emergency response team together, their coordination as seamless as if they were one person. I once secretly looked through Cassandra’s old photo albums. In the photos, Julian, in his uniform, was dashing and self-assured, with a confident spark in his eyes—a kind of sharp handsomeness I, an ordinary man, could never hope to achieve. And Cassandra, standing beside him, looked up at him with such tender adoration. Later, the team members told me Cassandra had been in love with Julian for years. From training camp to active duty, from mock drills to real missions, everyone assumed they’d end up together. But Julian, in the end, rejected her. “We’re not right for each other. You deserve better,” he’d said. He’d said this just as he was about to deploy, and Cassandra was still checking his gear for him. They remained the best partners, acting as if nothing had happened. But only in the dead of night would Cassandra push herself with extra training, until she was utterly exhausted. Later, Julian voluntarily transferred to a remote regional rescue division. On the day he left, Cassandra stood outside the airport, watching his silhouette disappear beyond security. Her fingers unconsciously stroked the ring she’d never gotten to give him. The team said it was the most utterly heartbroken they’d ever seen Cassandra. I met Cassandra about six months after Julian left. She was like a still, dark pool then, her very smiles felt cold. But I didn’t care. Young and headstrong, I believed time would wash away all past hurts. “She never had eyes for anyone else. You think she’s gentle? That’s just her professional demeanor. Forget you, even male models, handsome guys who brought her flowers, she’d smile and accept them, then turn around and just toss them.” That’s what the veteran members of the team used to tell me. They hated seeing me constantly showing up at the rescue headquarters, trying to be kind by warning me not to humiliate myself. But I didn’t believe them. I told myself to let the past be the past. Even if I was just stepping into someone else’s story, I was okay with that. Even the on-duty rescue nurse couldn’t take it anymore. “Leo,” she’d said, “how can you still not get it? Cassandra visits Julian every year, right on schedule. They might be miles apart, but their bond is deeper than anything you’ve built with her, every single day you’re by her side.” I truly didn’t understand. Didn’t understand why Cassandra accepted my pursuit. Didn’t understand why she married me. Looking back now, maybe from the day I used my second chance to save her friend, she’d already started planning.
That rescue, the one that changed everything, happened in my second year of knowing Cassandra. Torrential rain caused a massive landslide, burying an entire village. Cassandra led the charge, with her closest friend and comrade, Sarah, covering her from behind. No one noticed the massive boulder teetering precariously overhead. “Cassandra!” Sarah’s voice ripped through the downpour. The moment Sarah shoved Cassandra clear, the boulder crashed down. “No!” Cassandra lunged for the wreckage like a madwoman, only to be held back by three teammates. The rain plastered her long hair to her pale, distraught face. Back at the rescue headquarters, she knelt in the rain, trembling uncontrollably, like a wounded animal. It was the first time I’d ever seen her lose control. The usually composed and calm Cassandra could be reduced to such utter despair. Sarah was Cassandra’s childhood friend, more like a sister. They’d trained together, joined the force together, and later retired to join the rescue team together. Their bond was thicker than blood. When Sarah was pulled out, her heart had already stopped. The doctors said even if they revived her, she’d need a heart transplant, and the medical costs would be astronomical. “Please, I’m begging you, you have to save her!” Cassandra gripped the doctor’s hand, her voice raw. “Whatever it costs, I’ll find a way.” But she’d only recently retired, most of her income tied up in living expenses. Her friends did their best to chip in, but it was only a fraction of what was needed. I watched her pacing the hospital corridor, her eyes bloodshot, as if she hadn’t slept in days. “It should have been me who died,” she kept repeating. “Why did she save me?” In that moment, my heart ached so much I could barely breathe. I couldn’t stand it anymore. “I can donate my heart,” I said, pushing the door open and stepping inside. “My blood type and Sarah’s are a perfect match.” Cassandra’s head snapped up. “Are you insane?” Her voice was hoarse. “You’ll die!” I smiled at her, leaning in to whisper, “Trust me, I have a special ability. I won’t die.” She still didn’t agree, but I went ahead with the surgery behind her back. Not only did I donate my heart, but I also helped the son of a wealthy businessman who needed an organ transplant. In return, his family provided enormous funds for Sarah’s treatment. Days later, I woke up. When I opened my eyes, Cassandra was sitting by my bedside. She hadn’t slept in days; dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes, yet she stubbornly refused to leave. “You’re awake,” her voice was raspy as she carefully took my hand. “Does it hurt?” It was the first time I’d seen her look so genuinely gentle. Sarah recovered quickly, and Cassandra started visiting me at the hospital often. She’d peel apples for me, feed me water, her gaze so focused it made my heart flutter. Sometimes, when I fell asleep, I’d feel a soft kiss on my forehead. She began sharing her stories with me—funny anecdotes from training with Sarah when they were kids, the rigorous evaluations in the force, and how terrified she was of losing someone important to her. Her eyes were soft as she spoke, yet there was something else hidden within them, something I couldn’t quite decipher. Later, she proposed to me. I nodded, tears streaming down my face. She kissed them away, holding me tight. And after that, I applied to join the rescue team as an auxiliary medic, just to be by her side. It was then that Julian was transferred back to headquarters.
The day Julian returned, the entire rescue team was buzzing with excitement. He stood before the headquarters building, his posture still commanding, his handsome features now graced with a new, mature charm. Cassandra stood by the third-floor window, watching him for a full ten minutes. I stood behind her, noticing the slight tremble in her hands. “Julian’s as dashing as ever,” the team members whispered. “He’s done incredible work on the border these past few years, helped so many people, I hear.” At the welcome reception that evening, Julian raised his glass to Cassandra. “Cassandra, thank you,” he said. Cassandra, rarely one to drink much, was visibly tipsy. Her eyes were red as she replied, “Welcome back.” Those four simple words silenced the entire room. Everyone knew how long she’d held them inside. I sat quietly, watching them exchange a knowing smile. A sudden, chilling premonition washed over me. From that day on, Cassandra rarely came home. She claimed to be preparing for some critical rescue mission, but I knew she was with Julian, helping him refamiliarize himself with all the equipment and protocols. I’d cook dinner and wait, but she’d say she was in meetings. Yet, colleagues told me they’d seen Cassandra and Julian having dinner, chatting for hours. If I asked where she’d been, she’d lean in and kiss my forehead. “Just handing over work to Julian. Don’t overthink it.” But I clearly saw her phone light up on the coffee table. It was a text from Julian. She instinctively pressed the screen off, then hugged me a little tighter. She became increasingly tender, so tender it made my heart pound with a terrible unease. Every day, she’d come home with my favorite desserts. When I had insomnia, she’d sing me to sleep. For my birthday, she even took the day off just to be with me. As if worried I’d overthink things, she started acting overtly affectionate towards me in front of others. Sometimes, even in front of Julian, she’d deliberately stand on tiptoe to kiss me. But Julian’s smile was strange, as if he were watching a performance. Was she trying to reassure me, or make him jealous?
Months later, Sarah, the woman I’d saved, finally passed away. Complications arose so suddenly; by the time they were discovered, it was too late for treatment. I remember that day vividly. Cassandra knelt by Sarah’s hospital bed, gripping her hand. “I’m so sorry, Sarah,” she whispered, “I failed to protect you.” After that, she started having sleepless nights. Sometimes she’d wake up in a cold sweat, clinging to me tightly. “If only we’d caught the complications sooner,” she’d say, her eyes cold. “If only I could’ve saved her faster.” I thought she was consumed by self-blame, but I missed the simmering resentment in her eyes when she looked at me. In her mind, if my resurrection ability could have been deployed more ‘efficiently,’ Sarah might still be alive. Days turned into weeks. I began having frequent nightmares, dreaming of Sarah standing by her hospital bed, accusing me: “Why didn’t you save me sooner?” Cassandra would hold me when I woke up with a gasp, whispering reassurances. But her kisses felt hollow, missing the warmth they once held. Then came our wedding anniversary. I’d just finished setting the dinner table when the emergency call came in. A massive landslide in the mountains. Julian, leading the advance team, was trapped. We rushed to the hospital. The doctor’s words were grim: “Extensive internal organ damage. An immediate organ transplant is essential.” I watched Cassandra’s hands tremble, yet her eyes were eerily calm. She turned to me, her gaze something I’d never seen before. In that moment, I finally understood the reason for her recent strange behavior. But it was too late. “I’m sorry,” she said. As the anesthetic needle pierced my neck, I saw a flicker of tears in her eyes. “You said you couldn’t die,” her voice was barely a whisper. “Julian’s different. He can’t survive a second time.” As I was wheeled into the operating room, I heard her instructing the doctors: “Take his heart first.” The instant the scalpel cut into my flesh, I remembered something Sarah once told me: “Cassandra is fiercely loyal, but once she’s set her mind on something, she becomes absolutely unwavering.” The truth was, ever since Sarah’s death, Cassandra had been figuring out how to exploit my resurrection ability. She’d been waiting for an opportunity, waiting for a reason that could justify it to herself. And Julian, he was the perfect reason. The surgery was a success. My soul floated in the hospital corridor, watching two figures being wheeled out of the operating rooms. One was Julian, his heartbeat steady. The other was me, my body hollowed out. “Julian’s going to be okay,” a nurse whispered. “The transplanted organ is in perfect condition.” Cassandra let out a shaky breath, her eyes red-rimmed. She held Julian’s hand, staying by his side all night. I floated beside her, watching her tuck him in. Her hands were gentle, as if she was afraid to hurt him. Afterward, she stood facing the window for a long time. “You’ve suffered so much,” she murmured, her voice a raw whisper. Who was she talking to? After I’d died once to save Sarah, she’d also watched over me like this, saying those very same words. But now, the body they wheeled into the temporary holding room had no heart left at all. “Cassandra,” the on-duty nurse called out, “What about Leo’s remains?”
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