A Piece of a Heartbeat
The rain against the windowpane of the old bookstore was relentless, a drumming rhythm that usually comforted Julian. Today, however, the shop was quiet—too quiet. He sat behind the mahogany counter, the spine of a first edition failing to hold his attention.
The bell above the door chimed, cutting through the static of the storm.
Elara walked in, shaking off a red umbrella. She looked flustered, her coat damp at the shoulders, her hair struggling against the humidity. They had been dating for six months, a whirlwind of late-night coffees and shared silences that felt louder than words, but today she looked fragile in a way he hadn't seen before.
"Hey," she breathed, leaning back against the closed door as if to barricade the world outside.
Julian was around the counter in a second. "El? What's wrong?"
She didn't answer immediately. She just looked at him, her eyes wide and searching, scanning his face as if looking for a map. She walked toward him, not stopping until she was toe-to-toe, the scent of rain and vanilla perfume surrounding her. Without a word, she stepped into his space and pressed her forehead against his chest.
Julian froze for a heartbeat, then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He could feel her trembling—tiny, fine tremors running through her frame.
"I just needed..." She trailed off, her voice muffled by his sweater. "The world is so loud today, Julian. Everything is moving too fast. I felt like I was dissolving."
He tightened his hold, resting his chin on top of her head. He understood. Elara felt things deeply; she absorbed the chaotic energy of the city until she was saturated with it.
"You're here," he murmured, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "I've got you."
They stood there for a long time, the only sound the aggressive tap-tap-tap of the rain and the settling of old wood. Slowly, he felt her breathing shift. The frantic, shallow gasps deepened. Her shoulders dropped three inches. The tension draining out of her like water.
She shifted slightly, turning her head so her ear was pressed directly over his heart.
"There it is," she whispered, almost to herself.
"What?"
"That rhythm," she said softly. "It's slower than mine. It's... steady."
Julian closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of her weight against him. "It's yours if you need it."
Elara pulled back just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were clearer now, the frantic haze replaced by a soft, tired affection. She reached up, placing her palm flat against his chest, feeling the thud-thud-thud beneath the wool.
"My grandmother used to say that when you love someone, you don't just give them your heart metaphorically," Elara said, tracing the line of his collarbone. "She said you actually trade a piece. That way, no matter how far apart you are, a piece of your heartbeat is always keeping time in their chest, and vice versa."
Julian covered her hand with his. "Is that what happened? Did I steal a piece of yours?"
"No," she smiled, a small, genuine thing that lit up the gloomy shop. "I think I was just running on empty, and I came here to remember what the rhythm was supposed to sound like. I needed to borrow the piece you're keeping safe for me."
He kissed her forehead, lingering there. "It's not going anywhere. It's right here. Every beat is half yours anyway."
The storm raged on outside, battering the glass and flooding the gutters, but inside the circle of his arms, the world had narrowed down to the simplest, most essential thing: the syncopated rhythm of two people finding their way back to the same tempo.
"Better?" he asked softly.
Elara closed her eyes again, listening to the steady drum inside his chest.
"Yeah," she breathed. "I'm back.A Piece of a Heartbeat
The rain against the windowpane of the old bookstore was relentless, a drumming rhythm that usually comforted Julian. Today, however, the shop was quiet—too quiet. He sat behind the mahogany counter, the spine of a first edition failing to hold his attention.
The bell above the door chimed, cutting through the static of the storm.
Elara walked in, shaking off a red umbrella. She looked flustered, her coat damp at the shoulders, her hair struggling against the humidity. They had been dating for six months, a whirlwind of late-night coffees and shared silences that felt louder than words, but today she looked fragile in a way he hadn't seen before.
"Hey," she breathed, leaning back against the closed door as if to barricade the world outside.
Julian was around the counter in a second. "El? What's wrong?"
She didn't answer immediately. She just looked at him, her eyes wide and searching, scanning his face as if looking for a map. She walked toward him, not stopping until she was toe-to-toe, the scent of rain and vanilla perfume surrounding her. Without a word, she stepped into his space and pressed her forehead against his chest.
Julian froze for a heartbeat, then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He could feel her trembling—tiny, fine tremors running through her frame.
"I just needed..." She trailed off, her voice muffled by his sweater. "The world is so loud today, Julian. Everything is moving too fast. I felt like I was dissolving."
He tightened his hold, resting his chin on top of her head. He understood. Elara felt things deeply; she absorbed the chaotic energy of the city until she was saturated with it.
"You're here," he murmured, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "I've got you."
They stood there for a long time, the only sound the aggressive tap-tap-tap of the rain and the settling of old wood. Slowly, he felt her breathing shift. The frantic, shallow gasps deepened. Her shoulders dropped three inches. The tension draining out of her like water.
She shifted slightly, turning her head so her ear was pressed directly over his heart.
"There it is," she whispered, almost to herself.
"What?"
"That rhythm," she said softly. "It's slower than mine. It's... steady."
Julian closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of her weight against him. "It's yours if you need it."
Elara pulled back just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were clearer now, the frantic haze replaced by a soft, tired affection. She reached up, placing her palm flat against his chest, feeling the thud-thud-thud beneath the wool.
"My grandmother used to say that when you love someone, you don't just give them your heart metaphorically," Elara said, tracing the line of his collarbone. "She said you actually trade a piece. That way, no matter how far apart you are, a piece of your heartbeat is always keeping time in their chest, and vice versa."
Julian covered her hand with his. "Is that what happened? Did I steal a piece of yours?"
"No," she smiled, a small, genuine thing that lit up the gloomy shop. "I think I was just running on empty, and I came here to remember what the rhythm was supposed to sound like. I needed to borrow the piece you're keeping safe for me."
He kissed her forehead, lingering there. "It's not going anywhere. It's right here. Every beat is half yours anyway."
The storm raged on outside, battering the glass and flooding the gutters, but inside the circle of his arms, the world had narrowed down to the simplest, most essential thing: the syncopated rhythm of two people finding their way back to the same tempo.
"Better?" he asked softly.
Elara closed her eyes again, listening to the steady drum inside his chest.
"Yeah," she breathed. "I'm back."