The Two Halves of my Heart: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance

by Rachel De Lune

  The guy came at him again, pounding his fists into Maddison’s face and body. He stepped away, retreating before rounding on him with his own fists. They battled, trading punches one for one, but I’d seen the shock that went through Maddison’s body every time he took a hit. This was killing him, the sheer size of the other guy making it impossible for him to make a stand.

  Pain speared through my chest at what he was going through. The light hanging over the ring painted a sinister scene as pools of blood littered the matting and only grew in number. All the blood was Maddison’s.

  “Oliver, when will they stop?” A squeeze of my hand only met my plea as I fought the urge to turn away and bury my vision of Maddison’s torture. Another punch bruised Maddison’s face, and I finally caved and turned to Oliver and wrapped my arms around him.

  “Make it stop,” I sobbed. This was worse than anything I’d witnessed before. But I couldn’t shut my eyes on him. I saw the screen on the other side of the room, and I could make out the movements of what played out. Maddison righted himself, steadying his feet and pulled himself tall, but the other fighter just smiled. He pulled his arm back and smashed the heel of his palm up into Maddison’s face, crushing his nose.

  A collective gasp from the people around me preceded a second of eerie silence where I watched Maddison’s body go limp and give way beneath him, dropping like a puppet with broken strings. The thud of his weight hitting the mat made me jump, and Oliver’s arms constricted around me as he watched on.

  My eyes kept focused on the screen. “What happened?” I whispered. “Is he okay?”

  But the seconds ticked on, and Oliver didn’t reply. I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to bear what was coming next.

  Oliver still didn’t answer.

  Screams and shouts exploded all around and added to my confusion. The need to see Maddison, to check on him, overruled everything in me that told me to stay where I was. My body took over, the fight or flight response kicking in, and I struggled out of Oliver’s grasp and turned to the ring. People rushed all around, but through the chaos, I could see the ring, and his body, still on the ground.

  “No. No. No.” I started to shake my head. He needed to see me. He had to know that I was there for him. That I cared. My legs powered me forward with a new determination, and I broke through the people in between me, and where I needed to be. I crossed the barrier, looking for a way to Maddison.

  Steel arms locked around my waist and stopped me in my tracks.

  “You don’t want to see him, Grace,” Leo’s voice strangled out the words.

  “No, I need to. I have to…” The energy drained from my limbs as I tried to free myself, and I watched as Leo nodded to someone before he let me go. I fell away, but Oliver was there to catch me, pulling me back into his embrace.

  People swarmed into the ring, and I lost sight of Maddison. Oliver picked me up and carried me to the side, where we sat down on a wooden bench. My arms gripped onto Oliver for dear life. Tears clouded my eyes, turning the scene into a watery mess shielding my vision. The details of what had happened to Maddison was what I both desperately wanted to hear and yet couldn’t stomach comprehending.

  Movements and noise faded as I waited in a status of nothingness, cocooned in Oliver’s arms. If I opened my mind to the reality around us, I’d break, and I wasn’t sure how I’d make it through.

  “Grace?” A man appeared in my line of vision, but he was blurred and fuzzy in front of me from the water distortion.

  “Who are you?” It was my thought, but Oliver’s words.

  “It would be best to get you out of here.”

  “I’ll ask you again, who are you and how do you know Grace?” Oliver’s tone was hard and stern, but he maintained his gentle hold of me as if he knew how delicate I was—like glass—liable to smash if dropped.

  “Let’s go somewhere to talk. I’ve ordered the place to be cleared.”

  Cleared?

  Cleared.

  Suddenly I couldn’t bear the thought of everyone leaving. What had happened to Mads? What had they done with him?

  “No,” I answered. “We can’t leave. I won’t leave him.” I wrestled Oliver, and this time, made it to the door of the cage. My feet stumbled up the few steps and then crashed to my knees at the sight of his body. He was covered. Someone had pulled a black cloth over him and left him where he’d fallen.

  “Maddison?” Hot tears trickled down my face, scolding me, but I didn’t wipe them away—rather I embraced them. The pain was too much to push past, so I succumbed, letting it overwhelm and devour me from the inside out, starting with the half of my heart I’d given to him when we were just children.

  The howl that ripped from my chest echoed in the vast and empty space, giving voice to my grief that I couldn’t possibly contain. On my knees, I crawled over to where he’d fallen and smothered his body with mine.

  My sobs shook my body, and I drowned in the loss right in front of me.

  The last thing I remembered was the distant sounds of sirens growing in strength, and the thudding of footsteps as more people—different people—gathered around us.

  Me, Oliver, and the body of the boy I loved.

  Chapter 31

  Oliver

  It rained.

  Of course, it did. It couldn’t be a bright day to mark the funeral of my little brother.

  It felt like I’d lost a part of myself. I’d wake up, or have this weird sensation that I’d forgotten something, but I hadn’t. Maddison wasn’t with us anymore. I had travelled for years with no contact and had only felt the loss of Grace. But this, this had a permanence that I couldn’t escape. None of us could, and it hurt.

  Mum had Dad for support. Or rather they had each other. He was their baby boy, and the pain of their loss was enough to cripple me. It was a palpable presence in the house, a thick fog that had rolled in and suffocated everything.

  So, I looked after Grace.

  She was a shell those first few days.

  The police had arrived and had taken over the scene where Maddison had been killed, and we provided a statement, or rather, I offered an account, which Grace confirmed. She was lost in her own pain, and no one was getting any details out of her.

  The police opened an investigation due to the nature of the death, and I gave them everything I knew, including the details about the man who was in charge and had tried to speak to Grace after the fight. Explaining what happened to my mum, and watching as she took the news, piecing together the series of events, crushed me. Her grief-stricken face looked at me for answers, but I couldn’t give her any. It was paralysing.

  A few days before the funeral, I had a visitor. Leo came to see me. I’d recognised him from that night, and he explained that he was Maddison’s friend. He’d confessed the whole story of what happened the day he died—said he wanted to do right by Mads and Grace. I forced him to take the information to the police, and that gave them some of the answers I hadn’t been able to.

  It also made me question what the hell Maddison had been thinking.

  Grace was his light. The love of his life. He’d never put her in danger or risk her. Yet, he’d made a bargain with her father to fix the fight. It just didn’t go down that way. I vowed never to tell her the truth. She’d carried enough questions and guilt about his death, and I refused to burden her further by including her father as a part of it. Not yet, at least.

  Through the rain, I kept my hand locked in Grace’s. Her mum and my parents flanked us, like pillars keeping us all standing. She was motionless, except for the gentle rise of her shoulders as she cried softly. Her controlled sorrow was nothing like the sounds that had pierced through the air after she’d first seen his body lying covered in the ring. Those screams would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.

  She refused to move after the service, maintaining her vigil over his grave.

  She was broken.

  Not only did I have to come to terms with the death of my brother, bu
t also at losing the girl who’d held both of our hearts. And there was nothing I could do.

  Somehow, the days slipped past, and a new reality dawned, one where I returned to London and to the job I needed. Grace started her new position nearer home. I missed her smile, her laugh, and the wonder in her eyes when she spoke about everything and nothing.

  I’d been missing her for years, and the glimpse I’d had was too brief and clouded with pain. We hadn’t talked. Not properly, and we’d both fallen into our own sorrow. And my biggest fear was that this grief was an insurmountable object that neither of us could pass and still come out whole on the other side.

  At night, I thought of all the times I’d wished that Maddison hadn’t loved Grace and hoped that he’d pick any of the other girls he could have chosen. And I was immediately struck with shame because I knew I’d never have given her up if that were the case. Yet, I was so angry about what he’d done. Angry that he wasn’t here to answer the questions I had about those last days and why he’d sold Grace out.

  A few weeks after the funeral, the police informed me that they had charged Mike Kenner with manslaughter and further crimes all relating to his underground ring and other seedy activities. It made me wonder what Mads might have got himself into if he’d come out of that fight alive.

  Mum and Dad knew that the person responsible for Maddison’s death would be prosecuted—they needed the closure—but they didn’t know the connection to Grace. It might be something I confessed in the future, but right now, she didn’t need to hear it, and that weight of knowledge would be mine to bear alone. Maddison would get justice, and that was all that mattered.

  Most of my messages to Grace went unanswered, but I didn’t stop sending them. She needed to know I was here for her, and, looking out for her was a distraction from my own pain.

  Weeks moved by at an excruciating pace. I spent my days longing for the weekend so I could visit home, and then when I was there, with Mum, Dad, and sometimes Grace, the pain was so visceral that I longed to be back in London. I felt trapped between supporting the people I loved and my own suffering.

  The fog of sadness that descended on the house after his death hadn’t left. And it sucked any sense of life from the place. Mum spent her days staring out of the window or pretending that everything was okay—the two extremes she now lived in.

  Nothing felt familiar anymore. And as much as I wanted us to repair the damage that Maddison’s death had caused, I didn’t know how to do it.

  I continued to support Grace, even when she didn’t want it. Somewhere in those last few weeks, it had become unbearable to imagine life returning to how it had been before Maddison’s death—her moving on with her life, all but forgetting about me.

  The centre of my chest felt like a hollow vacuum, empty of life and love when my mind wandered. It was selfish and cruel, but I wanted her to remember that she loved me, too, and not just feel the pain of her loss.

  I’d had enough of doing the right thing to spare other’s feelings at the cost of my own. If Maddison’s death had taught me one thing, it was that you couldn’t put your own feelings on hold because tomorrow might never come. I’d buried my true feelings for too long.

  The weather was perpetually bleak, but it didn’t stop me from going to stand by his gravesite. The churchyard was always quiet, and despite the hundreds of graves, there was only ever one other person I’d seen visiting. But not today.

  “Hey,” I spoke into the air, standing over his grave.

  It had felt strange the first time, speaking to nobody, but after a few times, a part of my pain eased as I said the words I wanted Maddison to hear. As though by talking to him, I was keeping a part of him alive in my heart. That gave me a sliver of peace at his death and made it easier to comprehend that he would never answer me again, never push me, or fight with me.

  The acceptance was hard, and it didn’t make me miss him any less. More that it became easier to bear.

  “Has Grace been by today?” I crouched down, resting on my haunches and bowing my head. “She’s not doing so well, Mads. She’s stuck in this haze and refuses to help herself out of it. She blames herself, the guilt from that day is stuck, and it’s those feelings she’s accepted rather than coming to terms with your loss and dealing with her grief.”

  There were two versions of Maddison that I now held in my mind—the one that loved Grace for all she was, who would argue with me for her attention but would protect and help her above all else. And then there was the arrogant version, that only pursued Grace because he had to win, and when that wasn’t enough, he pushed and pushed until he was king of his world.

  That was the Maddison who got killed, but it wasn’t the one I wanted to remember.

  “Help me out, Mads. I don’t know how, but you’ve got to let her go.” I stood and took a step back as the raindrops began to splash on the path. The tip-tapping of the drops on the leaves around the church was peaceful, soothing, in a way.

  I sensed her before she said anything, and I wondered if she’d leave to try and avoid me, but I didn’t want to give her that chance today.

  “Hi, Grace.” I turned and saw her several metres up the path, clutching her umbrella. Her long hair spilt out from her collar and danced in the breeze.

  She approached with tentative steps, and I hoped the sadness I felt wasn’t reflected in my face.

  “Hi.”

  “You haven’t been in touch for a little bit. How’s your job? Settled in?”

  “It’s fine.” She stared straight ahead and didn’t bring her eyes to look at mine.

  For all the years we’d been friends, we’d avoided awkward silences. Now, they punctuated our time together with a tension so thick, it sucked away all the good.

  “Grace, why don’t you come back –”

  “No. I’m happy here.”

  “It’s raining. Let’s catch up.” I reached for her hand, but she pulled away, stepping back from me.

  The memory of her squeezing my hand—of her holding onto me so tightly that her nails formed little crescents on the side of my palm—flashed into my mind. I wondered if there would ever be a way to reach that again.

  “Grace, don’t do that. I know you’re hurting. I am, too.”

  “No, you’re not. Not like me.”

  “Then tell me. Help me understand.” The urge to comfort her, caused me to tear up, but I refused to approach and balled my fists at my side instead.

  She looked around the churchyard as if anyone else might be here. And then her eyes looked right past me to the name carved into stone.

  “I loved both of you. When we were kids, it was easy.” Her head tipped to the side as if that was the explanation for all the troubles in the world. “We’d camp out and look at the stars, play out all day, and nothing else mattered. They were the best days of my life.”

  “Mine too.” It was the truth.

  “It worked back then. We were happy. You both owned half of my heart, and I’d have never chosen between you. I loved you both too much.” She finally looked at me with eyes filled with such misery that I was scared that I might drown.

  “And then I left.” I finished for her.

  “And I had to learn not to love you anymore.”

  This was all such a mess, and as her words pierced me with guilt and regret, I wondered how I’d ever make things up to her.

  “I couldn’t live without you, Grace.” She knew this. I’d spelt it out for her in my letters, and it was as true now as it had been then.

  The rain started to drip from my hair and seeped into my jumper. I hadn’t noticed how heavy it had got.

  “And now I have to learn not to love him.” Her voice quivered as she spoke, nodding towards the grave behind me.

  “You don’t need to stop loving him, Grace.” I failed to keep my distance as every instinct in my body drove me to comfort her. I stopped short of wrapping her in my arms and settled for standing before her. At least this time she didn’t step away.


  “It’s too hard, Oliver. This is all too hard. It shouldn’t be this way.” Tears swam in her eyes as I stared at her, wishing there was a way I could take all this pain and carry it for her.

  Raindrops ran down my face and disguised my tears, as my heart broke for the girl I loved, all over again.

  “I know, Grace. I know.”

  Chapter 32

  Grace

  I’d never set foot in our village church before.

  It had stood on the hill watching over the houses and the people below for all of the years I’d lived here. I’d never had a reason to give it much thought, other than a passing glance.

  Now, I visited all the time. Or rather, I visited one gravestone in particular, situated at the far end of the graveyard, accessed via a sloping path through plots of grass all higgledy-piggledy with headstones.

  I stared at his name carved into the marble stone—it was grey—a permanent reflection of my mood.

  And after months, it hadn’t eased.

  I woke up, went to work, came home and repeated. There was no fire or excitement—nothing to brighten the day, or my soul anymore. How could I be happy when Maddison was dead?

  It was the guilt I couldn’t move past. So much guilt. It invaded every molecule of my being, weighing me down like I was carrying the weight of Maddison around with me wherever I went.

  First, it was from the day he died. Not being there for him when he needed me the most ate away at me, gnawing at my gut from the inside. It had been my doing—my failure that forced him into that fight.

  But that burden faded when the logic of distance allowed me to see clearly. I even questioned if Maddison would have gone through with the fight regardless of what I’d said, and that he just wanted me there for him. Of course, he couldn’t answer my questions. Everything was rhetorical when it came to him now.