A change of heart.

Mia shared the news about her brother's death. She felt alone, like she suddenly bore the weight that had always been on her brother's shoulders and never hers. Death is indeed a thief of joy. She had just gotten a promotion at the bakery as an assistant baker, and now she had no one to celebrate with.

While Ethan was getting his second chance, she was burying her brother. Mia was super depressed and couldn't cope at all. She tried to warn Dr Martin about the heart and how it made her brother erratic, but her words fell on deaf ears. She felt sorry for the recipient of that heart, but what could she do? She didn't have the power to stop the operation.

Meanwhile, Ethan woke up from surgery after a week, feeling a surge of energy he hadn't experienced in months. He immediately asked his secretary to bring him a laptop. A sense of gratitude and wonder filled his chest. The sound of his new heart was like music to his ears, a reminder of the second chance he had been given. He felt a sense of responsibility wash over him, a promise to take care of this precious gift and make it feel at home in his chest.

As he lay in the hospital bed, he gently placed his hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his new heart. Doctor Martin entered with a wide smile.

"You're awake and already working?" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Yes, doctor," Ethan replied, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "I just want to send a few emails."

"Don't use too much of your energy," Doctor Martin advised, his tone gentle but firm. "It's very important to go with the flow."

"Thank you, doctor," Ethan responded, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"When can I be discharged?" Ethan asked, his voice barely audible.

"After a week or two," Doctor Martin said.

"Can it be a week?" Ethan pressed, his voice now stronger, more insistent.

"It will depend on your progress, Mr Blackwood. I will discharge you when I'm sure that you have recovered," Doctor Martin said.

"Sure, doctor," Ethan replied, a hint of resignation in his voice. But his eyes held a determined glint, a silent promise to himself that he would be out of that hospital bed and back in the driver's seat of his life as soon as possible.

Work for Mia was a form of distraction, but it was failing her. She kept getting orders wrong, her usually meticulous handwriting a scrawl on the order slips. She felt lost, adrift in a sea of grief. This was a first for the normally organized Mia.

"Mia, please take leave and deal with your grief," Mrs Rose said, her voice gentle but firm. The head baker placed a comforting hand on Mia's shoulder, noticing the tremor in her frame. "You're seriously not coping, and it's affecting your work."

Mia's eyes welled up with fresh tears, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry," she choked out, a sob escaping her lips. "I just... I can't..."

Mrs Rose pulled Mia into a warm embrace, her own eyes glistening with sympathy. "He used to love my baking," Mia cried into Mrs Rose's shoulder, her voice muffled. "He supported me to pursue baking. He was my muse, my motivation, but now he's gone."

"I'm so sorry, Mia," Mrs Rose murmured, her hand stroking Mia's hair soothingly.

Mia pulled away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I don't want to take a leave," she said, her voice determined. "I need a distraction."

Mrs Rose tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "Surely, it's not working, Mia. You're just hurting yourself more by trying to push through. I think you need to find healing within yourself. Distraction is ignoring the pain. It will always be there until you face it head-on."

" I will try, thanks Mrs rose" Mia said.

" Call me when you need help" she said

" Sure boss " Mia said.

While others were weeping, others were receiving roses. It had been the second week for Ethan at the hospital. He was graced by the presence of Sophia, who was super gorgeous. Her skin was so soft, it was like she bathed in milk every day. Her demeanor was gentle and sweet, befitting a princess.

"Hey, Ethan," she greeted, her voice like honey.

Ethan tried to get up, grunting in mock pain. Sophia gently helped him, her touch light and comforting.

"Hey, gorgeous," he responded, his voice raspy. "How have you been?"

"I'm fine, what about you?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

"I'm fine. I'm getting better," he said, a weak smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, that's good. Did Dad invite you to my birthday?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

"He did, but it wasn't easy to get that invite," he said, chuckling lightly.

"You know how protective Dad is," she said, rolling her eyes playfully. "I'm glad you're coming."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," he said, his gaze lingering on her face.

Ethan noticed the bouquet of roses with a "Get Well Soon" message. "Are those for me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," she replied, blushing slightly. "I didn't know what you liked, so I thought flowers would be a great start."

"I also have a sweet tooth," he said, leaning in conspiratorially. "If you can sneak in some cupcakes for me, I will be forever indebted."

"That's a great fun fact about you, Mr Blackwood. I didn't know you have a sweet tooth ".she said, her smile widening.

"If we're to be married," he said, his voice low and intimate, "I want you to know everything about me."

She smiled shyly, her cheeks flushing with color. Who could blame a girl? Ethan wasn't a bad prospect, even if he did like to act like an arrogant jerk. He had his charms, his undeniable charisma.

"Make sure you heal before my birthday," she said, her voice soft and caring. "There will be more than enough cupcakes to make your sweet tooth sing." She added, "I don't want to endanger your health. Make sure you recover well."

Sophia was lovable. Even though his heart didn't beat for her -not only the old weak one but the new one - she was someone easy to love. Sweet, compassionate, and very pretty. Who wouldn't fall? When Sophia exited, the secretary approached, a curious expression on his face.

"Boss, you should've told me you wanted cupcakes," the secretary said, shaking his head in disbelief. "In all my years of serving you, I've never seen you touch a sweet thing."

"I'm testing my prey," Ethan replied, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"For once, I thought your heart was warming up to her," the secretary responded, his voice hopeful.

"Owning Patel hotels is a big deal," Ethan countered. "Why wouldn't my heart warm up?"

The secretary raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think Patel is looking for a son to own his property, not a son-in-law?"

"I just know," Ethan said confidently. "And I don't want to appear as a gold digger, even though I do love some digging."

How could someone have a change of heart? While Ethan was recovering, Mia was on a leave that she never wanted. She gathered her brother's things from his apartment, her movements slow and heavy. She found a book of his findings about the heart and tucked it away in his bedroom safe. She was detached from anything that had to do with the heart. As long as she wasn't affected, why should she care about the next victim when she had just lost her only close family member?

She packed his clothes, each item a poignant reminder of her brother's life. Even a shirt that she had always wanted from him, she now possessed automatically.

"I will always love you, Pookie," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. With a final glance around the empty apartment, she closed the door behind her, taking the last step away from her brother's life.

Meanwhile, Mr "You Know Who" was finally getting out of the hospital. The heart had settled in, and the doctor had cleared him to go.

As he strolled around his luxurious apartment, a self-satisfied smirk played on Ethan's lips. Despite his nonchalant facade during his hospital stay, having a sense of security was exhilarating. He took a long, indulgent bath, admiring his reflection in the marble-clad bathroom, relishing his newfound vitality.

After the bath, he commanded his secretary to bring him the file of the donor. Ethan reclined on a plush velvet chaise lounge, clad in a silk robe, as he perused the documents.

"Mia Bennet," he read aloud, a hint of amusement in his voice, "the sister of the donor. I bet she'll be super grateful when I bless her with a million."

The secretary, ever the voice of reason, cautioned, "I bet she misses her brother. Let's wait a little bit before we offer her money."

Ethan waved a dismissive hand, "Sure, we'll do it your way, old man."

"Also, your report was sent to Mr Patel," the secretary added.

"Thank you," Ethan replied, his eyes scanning the donor file.

"Uhm, I will be retiring after your wedding," the elderly secretary announced, his voice tinged with sadness.

Ethan looked up, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "Didn't you say you'd retire when I found love?"

The secretary sighed, "At this point, it's clear that you will never find love."

"Don't give up on me, old man," Ethan retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Not being in love with Sophia doesn't mean I won't be happy. Maybe my heart doesn't sing with butterflies when I see her, but she's a proper, well-raised young woman. She's worthy of my Blackwood surname."

The secretary nodded slowly, his expression a mix of resignation and hope. "You have a meeting tomorrow early in the morning. Should I cancel it?"

"No, you will go on my behalf," Ethan instructed, his voice taking on a steely edge. "The head of finance is stealing from the business. I need you to handle it for me."

The secretary's eyes widened in alarm. "Handle? You don't mean murder, do you?"

Ethan scoffed, "Old man, I'm not a killer. I just want to make sure that thief is dealt with."

"How long have you known?" the secretary asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"When I was at the hospital," Ethan replied, his gaze cold and calculating. "Just make sure he pays back my money."

"Sure, boss," the secretary said, bowing his head in submission.

Mia sat on the edge of her bed, wearing her brother's t-shirt.The apartment felt empty, the silence deafening.

A soft knock at the door startled her. She rose, her movements slow and heavy, and opened the door to find Emily, her brother's ex-girlfriend, standing on the other side, a casserole dish in her hands.

"I thought you might need this," Emily said, her voice soft and hesitant. "And some company."

Mia stepped aside, allowing Emily to enter. The aroma of the casserole filled the air, a welcome distraction from the overwhelming sadness that had permeated the apartment.

They sat at the small kitchen table, eating in silence for a while. Mia picked at her food, her appetite nonexistent.

"Talk to me, Mia," Emily encouraged, reaching across the table to take Mia's hand. "Tell me how you're feeling."

Mia's voice cracked as she spoke, "I feel lost, Emily. Like a part of me is missing."

Emily nodded understandingly. "Grief is a journey, Mia. It takes time to heal."

"But how do I move on?" Mia asked, her voice choked with tears. "How do I live without him?"

Emily squeezed Mia's hand. "You take it one day at a time, Mia. You lean on your friends, your family. And you remember the love you shared with your brother. That love will never die."

Mia nodded, tears streaming down her face. She knew Emily was right. It would take time, but she would heal. And she would never forget the love she shared with her brother, even though his final days were marred by the inexplicable change brought on by the heart transplant.

"I loved your brother," Emily confessed, her voice trembling slightly as she reached out to clasp Mia's hand. "And I still do."

Mia met Emily's gaze, her own eyes filled with sorrow and understanding. She squeezed Emily's hand in return, a silent acknowledgment of the shared grief. "I know," she said softly.

Mia's voice caught in her throat, tears welling up in her eyes. "Please don't hate him," she pleaded, her voice thick with emotion. She leaned forward, her eyes searching Emily's face. "It wasn't him, and I know it wasn't him. He wasn't himself."

Emily's eyes welled up with tears. "He changed on me, Mia," she said, her voice choked with emotion. She reached for a tissue, dabbing at her eyes. "Like I couldn't recognize the man I loved. I know it's not easy for you to accept that your brother was violent," she continued, her voice barely a whisper, "But he was. He hurt me, Mia."

Mia shook her head, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "He was the sweetest person with me," she insisted, her voice filled with disbelief. "I don't know the violent person you're saying he was."

Legend says a heart never forgets who it once beats for. But how could Emily and Mia have such different versions of the man they both loved? Mia knew her brother inside and out. He would go hunting with her. She knew Emily wasn't lying, which is why she blamed the heart. Her brother changed the moment he received it. The warmth in his eyes faded, replaced by a cold, unfamiliar glint. His gentle touch became harsh, his voice sharp and accusing. It was as if the new heart had brought with it a darkness, a twisted reflection of the man he once was.

The scent of the casserole wafted through the air, a bittersweet reminder of happier times. Mia could almost taste her brother's favorite dish, the warmth of the kitchen filling her with a sense of longing. But the gnawing emptiness in her heart remained, a constant reminder of her loss.