The Heartbeat at 6:20

My husband, Graham Hale, was known in our circle for being almost impossible to rattle. In three years of marriage, nothing ever seemed to get much of a reaction out of him. When his company went public, all he said was, "Got it." When his father was in critical condition, Graham spent the entire night outside the operating room without ever looking shaken. Even the day I miscarried, he held me while I was still bleeding and calmly wiped away my tears. "Don't cry. We can have another." I always thought he just wasn't wired for strong emotions. Then one day, I happened to check his smartwatch. Over the past two weeks, it had recorded six unusual spikes in his heart rate. Every single one happened around 6:20 a.m. What could make a man who never lost his composure suddenly have a heart rate over 130? I got my answer two weeks after my older sister, Celeste Whitmore, came home following her divorce. One day, as I passed Graham's home office, I heard his mother ask, "After all these years, you still can't get over Celeste?" Graham was silent for a long moment before answering. "Yeah. I've had feelings for her since I first saw her in high school." His father sighed. "Then why did you marry her sister?" Graham looked down and slowly turned his wedding ring around his finger. His voice was as calm as if he were discussing a business deal. "The Whitmores were on the verge of losing everything back then. "It didn't matter who I married. Marrying Dawn at least gave me a legitimate reason to put money into Whitmore Group. "That way, the Carvers wouldn't look down on Celeste." I stood outside the door, thinking about those six heart-rate spikes. Celeste went out for her morning run at around 6:20 every day. So Graham's heart could race after all. Just never for me. And in that moment, my own heart finally went still. Chapter 1 Inside the home office, my mother-in-law, Margaret Hale, asked again, "What about Dawn? She just lost the baby." Graham was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, "I'll make it up to her." Margaret sighed. "Making it up to her isn't the same as loving her." Graham's voice remained calm. "All she wants is to be Mrs. Hale." I braced a hand against the wall as my fingertips slowly turned cold. So that was what he thought of the past three years. In his eyes, everything I'd held on to for the past three years had been nothing more than me chasing the title of Mrs. Hale. I didn't storm in. I simply turned around and went back to the bedroom. The paperwork from my follow-up appointment that morning was still on the nightstand. The doctor's note read: Patient is recovering poorly after miscarriage. Recommend having a family member present and avoiding emotional stress. Graham didn't know. That day, he'd gone apartment hunting with Celeste. It was eleven that night when he came home. He frowned when he saw the lights were still off. "Why aren't you asleep?" I looked at the smartwatch on his wrist. "Did your heart race today?" His fingers stilled on his cufflink. "What?" I picked up my spare phone and opened the screenshots I'd taken of his heart-rate data. "One thirty-six. One thirty-two. One forty." I looked at him. "Graham, doesn't your heart get tired from racing every time you see my sister?" Something shifted in his eyes. Not panic. Annoyance. "You went through my stuff?" "I heard you." He was quiet for two seconds. "How much did you hear?" I pointed to my chest. "Enough to kill whatever hope I had left." Graham sat down across from me. "Dawn, things back then weren't as simple as you think." "How complicated could they be?" "The Whitmores were about to lose everything." "So you married me?" "I still did everything a husband was supposed to do." I slapped the follow-up paperwork down in front of him. "That's your idea of being a husband? I went to my follow-up alone while you took my sister apartment hunting." He glanced at the paperwork, then quickly looked away. "You didn't tell me." "I had to tell you I needed a follow-up after my miscarriage?" He said nothing. I went on. "And the day I came out of surgery, your heart rate was sixty-eight. Was that because I didn't tell you I was in pain?" Graham frowned. "Dawn Whitmore, don't bring the baby into this." "Wasn't it your baby too?" His Adam's apple bobbed. After a long silence, he said quietly, "The baby's gone." The room fell deathly still. Then his phone rang. Celeste's name lit up the screen. Graham glanced at it and answered. I couldn't hear what she said, but his brows drew together. "Don't cry. I'm coming." He hung up and reached for his coat. "What happened to her?" I asked. "Low blood sugar." "Were you this worried when I miscarried?" Graham looked back at me, exhaustion flickering in his eyes. "Dawn, you used to be so understanding." He walked back over and reached out to touch my hair. "You can handle this. She can't." I pulled away from him. "What disgusts me most about you, Graham, is that you love her and still expect me to play along so you can keep up appearances." His expression cooled. "We'll talk when I get back." The door closed softly behind him. But I was finally awake. Chapter 2 Ten minutes later, Celeste posted a photo on social media. In the photo, she was sitting in Graham's car, holding a cup of warm milk. Graham was behind the wheel, calm as ever, his wedding ring clearly visible. The caption read: [Some people don't say "I love you," but they always show up.] I liked it. Three minutes later, she deleted it and sent me a message. Celeste: [Dawn, don't get the wrong idea. I just got back, and I didn't have anyone else I could ask for help.] Me: [I didn't.] Me: [You've never been short on people who care about you.] She kept typing for a long time. I didn't reply again. Graham came home after midnight. He smelled faintly of gardenias and sweet milk. I placed the divorce papers on the coffee table. "Sign them." Graham glanced down at them. His expression barely changed, as if I were just being unreasonable again. "Dawn, you've been making a fuss all night." He put the papers back down. "If you want me to make you feel better, you don't have to threaten me with divorce." So even when I tried to leave, he thought I was just asking him to make me feel better. That night, he slept beside me as usual. Half the bed lay empty between us. Someone could lie right beside you and still have their heart somewhere else. Early the next morning, my mother, Elaine Whitmore, called. "Dawn, come home for dinner tonight. Your sister's lost so much weight lately. Don't make things any harder on her." I tightened my grip on the phone. "Mom, did you know Graham had feelings for her?" The other end of the line went silent. A few seconds later, she said, "Who told you that nonsense?" "You knew." Her voice softened. "Dawn, what happened back then can't be explained in a few words." "Then explain it." "Whitmore Group was on the verge of collapse. Your father was so worried he couldn't sleep. Graham stepped in and saved this family." "So you married me off to him?" "What do you mean, 'married you off'?" she shot back. "Do you have any idea what kind of family the Hales are? Or what a catch Graham is? Anyone would envy you for marrying into that family." "He loves my sister." My mother paused. "It's not unusual for a man to still have feelings for someone from his past." I laughed. Someone from his past. That was Celeste. And somehow, I, his wife, was the outsider. That evening, Graham drove me to my parents' house. There was a jewelry box in the car. "For your mom," he said. I opened it. Inside was an emerald bracelet. "Did you get anything for my sister?" Graham kept his eyes on the road. "She just got divorced. Giving her anything too expensive wouldn't be appropriate." I closed the box. "You really know where to draw the line." Graham glanced at me. "Dawn, you don't have to be so sharp." "You only think I'm being sharp because you feel guilty." He said nothing after that. Celeste was already seated at the table when we arrived. She wore a pale blue sweater, her eyes slightly red. The moment Graham walked in, she stood. "Graham, you're here." She said it so naturally that it almost made me feel like I was the guest, not his wife. My father, Richard Whitmore, smiled. "Graham, why don't you sit next to Celeste? She just got back, and you two know each other well." Graham paused, then sat beside me instead. Something dimmed in Celeste's eyes. She lowered her gaze and served him a bowl of soup. "Your stomach's sensitive. Have some soup first." My mother smiled at once. "Celeste's always been so thoughtful." Then she turned to me. "Dawn, you've been married for three years. You should learn how to take better care of your husband." I looked at the bowl of soup. "I only found out today that he has a sensitive stomach." The table went quiet. Celeste said softly, "Dawn, I just remembered he has a sensitive stomach, so I served him some soup. It wasn't a big deal." I looked at her. "And back in high school, when that iced Americano upset his stomach, was buying him warm milk 'no big deal' too?" Celeste went pale. Graham set down his fork. "Dawn Whitmore." I turned to my father. "Dad, you knew too, didn't you?" My father frowned. "Knew what?" "That my husband had feelings for my sister." My mother shot to her feet. "Dawn!" I ignored her. "You knew he married me so he could invest in Whitmore Group. You knew he did it so Celeste wouldn't be looked down on by the Carvers." My father said nothing. His silence told me everything I needed to know. Tears filled Celeste's eyes. "Dawn, don't do this. Mom and Dad didn't have a choice." I looked at her. "And you didn't have a choice either?" She bit her lip. "I had a terrible time with the Carvers back then. Once Whitmore Group started failing, they looked down on me. Even the household staff started giving me attitude." Her voice trembled. "Only after Hale Group invested did the Carvers finally back off." She sounded like she was the one who'd been wronged. But every word reminded me of the same thing. My marriage had been the stepping stone that let her hold her head high with the Carvers. My mother reached for my hand. "Dawn, your sister's already been through a divorce. She's suffered enough." I looked down at her hand. "I had a miscarriage." My mother froze. "You lost your own grandchild less than a month ago." My father's voice hardened. "Why bring something that morbid up at the dinner table?" Graham frowned, as though he were about to say something. But Celeste burst into tears first. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't come back, none of you would be fighting like this." Graham immediately handed her a napkin. The movement was so practiced it seemed instinctive. I stared at the napkin and laughed. So he did know how to take care of someone. Chapter 3 I stood up. "You all keep eating." My father slammed his palm on the table. "If you walk out that door today, don't bother coming back!" I looked back at him. "Fine." My mother froze. "Dawn, don't say things you don't mean." "I mean it." I walked out of the Whitmore house. Not one person came after me. By the time I got downstairs, my phone buzzed. It was a message from my mother. Mom: [Your sister cried so hard her stomach hurts. Come back and apologize to her.] I stared at the message for a long time, then laughed. After that, I changed her contact name from Mom to Mrs. Whitmore. I looked back at the brightly lit house. All I wanted was to go somewhere no one would tell me to apologize. I was still looking for the red braided bracelet when Margaret called from the Hale family estate. I'd braided it myself for my baby while I was pregnant. It was a thin red braided bracelet with one crooked little knot. The baby moved for the first time while I was making it, and my hand trembled. When I woke up after the miscarriage, the bracelet was gone. Graham told me a nurse had probably misplaced it while tidying up. I believed him. Margaret said over the phone, "Grandpa Hale wants to see you. Come over for dinner tonight." At first, I wanted to say no. But Arthur Hale was the only person in the Hale family who had ever truly cared about me. After I lost the baby, he'd sent me a small silver pendant. So I went. Celeste was already in the living room when I arrived at the Hale estate. She sat beside Arthur, peeling an apple for him. She was wearing a red braided bracelet. I stopped in the doorway. My blood ran cold. I could never mistake that crooked little knot. Celeste followed my gaze. Then, as if she'd only just remembered what she was wearing, she lifted her wrist. "Dawn, what do you think? Isn't it pretty?" She gave me a timid smile. "Graham gave it to me. He said it was a good-luck bracelet, supposed to keep me safe." Graham came out carrying tea and stopped short. I walked toward her, one slow step at a time. "Take it off." Celeste blinked. "What?" "I said, take it off." Her eyes immediately filled with tears. "Dawn, I didn't know it was yours." "I made that for my baby." Arthur's expression changed. Margaret stared at me in shock. Graham frowned slightly. "I didn't know." "You didn't know?" I stared at him. "It was beside my pillow when I came out of surgery. You took it yourself." His face stiffened as the memory came back to him. "I thought seeing it would only upset you." "So you gave it to her?" Celeste started tugging at the bracelet through her tears. "I'll give it back, Dawn. I really didn't know." She pulled harder and harder until the bracelet dug into her wrist, leaving red marks. Graham caught her hand. "Don't. You'll hurt yourself." I stared at the way he was protecting her hand. That hurt even more than seeing my baby's bracelet around her wrist. "Tell her to give it back to me." Graham looked up at me, his voice low. "Dawn Whitmore, it's just a bracelet." I laughed. "Just a bracelet." I pointed to my stomach. "Just a baby." His expression finally changed. Arthur started coughing, furious. "Graham, what the hell is wrong with you?" Celeste cried even harder. "Dawn, don't blame Graham. I haven't been sleeping well lately. That's why he gave it to me." Her voice was quiet, as if she didn't want anyone else to hear. Or maybe she wanted only me to hear. "He said keeping it with you would only make you sad, so he thought it might keep bad luck away from me instead." Keep bad luck away. My baby was gone. And the bracelet I'd made for my baby was now supposed to protect Celeste instead. I reached for it. Graham grabbed my wrist. "Enough." I looked at him. "You're stopping me?" He said, "Celeste just got divorced. She's not in a good place emotionally." I laughed. "So when she cries, you're all terrified that pushing her too hard will break her. "I lost my baby. My marriage was traded for money. Every one of you lied to me and treated me like a fool." I looked straight at Graham. "And all any of you ever do is tell me to be understanding." I forced out each word. "Graham Hale, what exactly do I owe any of you?" He didn't answer. Celeste suddenly gave the bracelet a hard tug. It snapped. A loose red strand fell to the floor without a sound. I crouched down to pick it up. The moment my fingertips touched it, the tears finally came. Not for Graham. For my baby. For my baby, who never even got to keep the little bracelet I'd made. I closed my fist around the broken bracelet and turned toward the door. Graham followed me out into the yard. "I'll drive you." "No." "You shouldn't be alone like this. It's not safe." I turned back to him. "Graham, was there ever a moment when you truly wanted that baby to be born?" He went silent. I nodded. "I see." That night, I didn't go back to our bedroom. I sat in the guest room and placed the baby's little socks, the small keepsake charm, and the broken bracelet into a box. On the lid, I wrote, "Mommy couldn't protect you." When I finished, I wiped away my tears and started packing. I had painfully little to take. A few old clothes. A handful of books. One photograph my grandmother had left me. I didn't take a single piece of jewelry Graham had bought me. Before I left, I slipped off my wedding ring and placed it on the nightstand. It landed with the faintest sound. Like the sound of the love I'd given him for the past three years. So quiet, he'd never heard it. Chapter 4 Before I left for good, I went back to the Whitmore house. Not to say goodbye. I was there to get my personal documents. When my mother opened the door, the first thing she did was look over my shoulder. "Graham didn't come with you?" "I came alone." I walked past her toward the home office. "I need my documents." My father was drinking tea. He looked up. "What do you need them for?" "Divorce." His teacup hit the desk with a sharp clink. "Don't be ridiculous!" He pulled a file from the drawer and tossed it in front of me. "Read this before you make any more of a scene." I looked down. It was an investment agreement from three years ago. The date on it was seven days before my wedding. Hale Group had invested $5 million in Whitmore Group. As long as Graham Hale and Dawn Whitmore remained married, Whitmore Group would continue receiving financial backing from Hale Group and receive priority consideration for future partnerships. The final page bore my father's signature. My mother's. And Graham's. I stared at the three names and thought back to the night before my wedding. My mother had brushed my hair, her eyes red as she said, "Dawn, Graham is a good man. The fact that he wants to marry you means you matter to him." I'd cried like a fool that night. Now I understood. They'd only been afraid the deal might fall through at the last minute. I looked up. "So this is the contract you used to sell me off?" My father's face darkened. "Sell you? This family raised you. What's wrong with doing something for us in return?" "Then why wasn't it Celeste?" My mother blurted out, "Back then, your sister was already married!" The moment the words left her mouth, her face went pale. I laughed. "So if she hadn't been married, I never would've been the one Graham married." A faint sound came from outside the home office. Celeste stood in the doorway. "Dawn, I tried to talk Mom and Dad out of it." "Out of what?" I walked toward her, one step at a time. "Out of telling me the truth? Or out of putting such an ugly price tag on my marriage?" Celeste bit her lip. "I was miserable with the Carvers back then. They looked down on the Whitmores, and they looked down on me." "So I deserved this?" She shook her head through her tears. "That's not what I mean." "Then what do you mean?" I looked at her tearful face. "You knew Graham had feelings for you. You knew he married me to give you more standing with the Carvers. You knew I had a miscarriage. You knew that bracelet belonged to my baby. "And you still showed up in front of him at 6:20 in the morning. "You still wore that bracelet and said it was supposed to keep bad luck away from you." Celeste went deathly pale. I lowered my voice. "Celeste, it's not that you never meant to hurt me. "You just wanted to make sure that no matter who I married, I'd still lose to you." My father snapped, "Enough! Dawn Whitmore, if you go through with this divorce, you're no daughter of mine!" I nodded. "Fine." I pulled out my phone and took pictures of the agreement. My father lunged for it. I stepped back. "I already sent them to my attorney." Behind me, Celeste suddenly said, "Dawn, Graham might fight the divorce." I stopped. Her eyes were full of tears, but there was a quiet certainty underneath them. "You know how seriously he takes his responsibilities." I turned back to her. "Then we'll see how much that sense of responsibility is really worth." When I got back to the house, Graham was already waiting in the living room. The divorce papers were on the coffee table. His expression was cold. "You went to your parents'?" "Yeah." "And you met with an attorney?" "Yeah." He stared at me. "Who told you you could look into that agreement?" I pulled out my suitcase. "You all lied to me for three years, and now you're angry that I found out?" Graham was silent for a moment. "Things were complicated back then." "So complicated you had to lie to me just to get me down the aisle?" His brows drew together. "I didn't lie to you." "On our wedding day, you whispered in my ear that you'd be good to me." I looked at him. "Graham, were you thinking about me then? Or were you thinking that Celeste could finally hold her head up around the Carvers?" His expression finally changed. I dragged my suitcase toward the door. He grabbed the handle. "Where are you going?" "Leaving." "And where exactly do you think you're going to go?" His voice dropped, tinged with an arrogance he didn't even seem to notice. "The Whitmores won't take you back. "You still haven't recovered. If you walk out now, who are you going to rely on?" I looked up at him. "Myself." Graham stared at me as if I'd said something absurd. Then he suddenly pulled me into his arms. "Dawn, stop this." For the first time, his voice softened. "I won't see Celeste anymore. "The bracelet was my fault. "Tell me what you want. I'll give it to you." There had been a time when I'd dreamed of hearing those words. But now, held in his arms, all I felt was cold. I asked quietly, "Graham, do you know why I'm not crying anymore?" His body went rigid. I pushed him away. "Because I don't love you anymore." Behind me, his voice turned hoarse. "Dawn Whitmore, say that again." I didn't turn around. "I said I don't love you anymore." I walked out. The next second, Graham's smartwatch suddenly started vibrating against his wrist. He looked down. His heart rate was 168 bpm. At the same time, a health alert appeared on his phone: [High stress detected.] For the first time in our three-year marriage, his heart raced out of control because of me. And for the first time, he understood with absolute clarity that I was really done with him.