TAMING THE HEARTLESS VAMPIRE (ENGLISH)

Chapter 1

Aria

The air in the doctor's office felt recycled, sterile, and suffocatingly thin. I sat on the edge of the plastic chair, my fingers digging into the worn leather of my handbag.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Sinclair. We've reviewed the biopsy and the latest scans. You only have a few months left. Six, perhaps. Maybe less if the aggressive strain continues at this pace."

The world didn't end with a bang. It ended with the soft clicking of a ballpoint pen and the hum of an air conditioner.

I couldn't speak. My throat felt as though it had been lined with ground glass. The doctor's voice continued—a distant drone explaining something about palliative care, treatment options, medication to manage the pain, and possible surgical procedures to "buy time." But the words slowly faded into meaningless static.

Cancer.

Stage four.

A few months left.

The words cycled through my mind on a cruel, rhythmic loop. I stared at the mahogany desk, focusing on a small scratch in the wood because looking at the doctor's sympathetic eyes was more than I could bear. My hands trembled slightly in my lap, a physical manifestation of a soul coming undone.

This was what it felt like to learn you were going to die. It wasn't like the movies. There were no dramatic violins. There was only quiet. Heavy, absolute quiet—like the whole world had paused while everyone outside the window kept right on running.

"I suggest starting treatment immediately, Aria," the doctor continued gently, leaning forward. "It won't cure the underlying issue, but it might help slow the progression. It could give you more time to settle your affairs."

Settle my affairs. As if my life were a series of messy files on a desk.

I nodded, though I had barely absorbed what he was saying. Treatment. How? Where would I find the strength, let alone the money?

"How much, Doc?" I whispered, my voice sounding like it belonged to someone else. "The chemotherapy. The admissions. How much will it cost to stay alive for an extra month?"

The doctor sighed, shifting his papers. "It's expensive, Aria. Thousands per session. There are subsidies, but the waitlists are long."

I had originally planned to seek treatment abroad—I had a small savings account, a dream of escaping to somewhere better—but reality struck hard. The cost of staying alive was a luxury I simply could not afford.

Moments later, I was outside. The smell of antiseptic followed me into the humid afternoon air, and that was when my body finally surrendered. My legs felt like water as I descended the hospital steps. The sun was too bright. The honking traffic was too loud. I could no longer feel the world around me.

Then—

I broke down.

I collapsed onto a concrete planter, my chest tightening painfully as tears streamed down my face. People passed by—some casting curious glances, others too consumed by their own lives to notice a girl falling apart in broad daylight.

"What am I going to do?" I whispered to myself. "God, what am I going to do?"

My mind went immediately to the only person who mattered.

Adrian.

My younger brother. He was only nineteen, still full of dreams about becoming an engineer. He was all I had left in this world. Both our parents had died years ago in a mysterious accident—a hit-and-run on a rainy night that no one could properly explain. The police had closed the file within a month. Since then, it had been just the two of us.

I was the older sister. The provider. The protector. The wall between him and the harshness of the world. I was supposed to be strong. But how do you protect someone when you are crumbling from within? Who would make sure he ate? Who would pay for his tuition when I was gone?

I sobbed openly on the edge of the sidewalk, the grief for a life I hadn't yet finished living washing over me in waves. My breathing became uneven as fear and helplessness flooded my chest like rising water.

Then another thought flickered in—a brief, desperate flame of hope.

Aaron.

My boyfriend of three years. He was my rock, or so I had believed. He deserved to know. I needed him to tell me we would find a way together, that he would help look after Adrian if something happened, that I wasn't alone in this darkness.

I wiped my tears quickly with the back of my hand and pulled out my phone. My fingers trembled as I dialed his number.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Nothing.

I tried again, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Still nothing.

A frown creased my face. He was supposed to be at his condo, working on his freelance designs. But something felt wrong. A cold prickle of intuition crawled up my spine.

After a moment of hesitation, I made a decision. I wouldn't wait for a callback. I needed him now. I would go to him.

Aaron lived in a condominium not far from the hospital district. By the time I arrived, my head was still spinning, my thoughts an endless, chaotic loop. Cancer. Few months left. Chemo. Hospital bills. Death.

The elevator ride felt unusually long, the floor numbers ticking upward like a countdown. When I finally reached his floor, my chest tightened with nervous anticipation. I just wanted him to hold me. I just wanted to hear him say my name.

I knew his door code—we had been together for years, sharing dreams and secrets. I entered the numbers automatically, his birthday and mine combined.

The lock clicked softly.

The lights were dim. The scent of his expensive cologne hung in the air.

"Aaron?" I called softly. "Honey? Are you home?"

No answer.

But something felt wrong immediately. The apartment was usually tidy, but as I walked further in, I noticed the trail of chaos. My brow furrowed at the sight of clothes scattered across the floor. His navy shirt. His jeans.

Then my eyes landed on something that made my stomach drop into an icy void.

A red lace bra. Expensive. Definitely not mine.

My heart began pounding violently. A frantic, terrible rhythm. No. No, please. Not today. Not on this day of all days.

Slowly, I walked toward the bedroom. Each step felt like I was wading through concrete. The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

Then I heard it.

A woman's moan—sharp, rhythmic, unmistakable.

My entire body froze. My breath caught in my throat on the sob I had been swallowing since the doctor's office. The moan was followed by a man's low, guttural groan.

I knew that voice. I had heard it every day for three years.

Aaron.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling into the dark hallway. My hands trembled as I reached out and slowly pushed it open.

What I saw shattered everything I knew.

Aaron was completely naked on the bed, his head thrown back, his eyes closed in pleasure. A woman I didn't recognize—long blonde hair, perfect skin—sat on top of him, moving against him as she moaned loudly.

I pressed my hand over my mouth to stop the scream. My vision blurred instantly with hot, stinging tears.

I had given him three years of my life. I had worked double shifts to help him when he was struggling. I had loved him with everything I had. I had even given him my body because I believed in us, in forever—even as my own forever was being cut short by a tumor.

And this is what I found.

The rage ignited in my chest like a flash fire. Without thinking, I shoved the door open.

The loud bang of wood against the wall made them both freeze. The woman shrieked, clutching a pillow to her chest. Aaron's eyes snapped open and widened in horror.

"Aria?!"

He scrambled from the bed, tripping over the sheets, grabbing a tangled blanket to cover himself. He looked pathetic—a panicked animal caught in a trap.

"Honey, wait! Let me explain!"

He reached for my arm. I recoiled before he could touch me.

"Don't you dare touch me!" I cried. My voice broke into shards. "How could you?"

"Aria, listen to me. It's not what it looks like—"

"I saw you!" I shouted, my whole body shaking. "Don't stand there and lie to my face!"

"I—I had too much to drink," he stammered. "She just showed up, and I wasn't thinking straight—"

"Liar!" I turned to leave, but he grabbed my arm, his grip bruising.

"Let go of me! I said don't touch me!"

"Aria, stay! We can talk about this!"

Without hesitation, I slapped him. The sharp crack echoed through the room like a gunshot. My hand stung, but the pain in my chest was infinitely worse.

"After everything I've done for you!" I sobbed. I began hitting his chest weakly, my strength failing me. "I supported you! I stayed with you! I gave you everything I had, Aaron! I thought we were building something together!"

Suddenly, the guilt vanished from his face. It was replaced by something cold and ugly.

"Fine! You want the truth? I've been seeing her for a month!" His expression twisted. "I have needs, Aria! And because of your illness—because you're always tired, always sick, always complaining—I can't get what I want from you anymore. You're not the same woman I started dating. You've become a burden."

His words struck me like physical blows.

"You're disgusting," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I came here today to tell you that the results came back. I have cancer, Aaron. Terminal cancer." My voice fractured completely. "I only have a few months left."

I waited for some flicker of remorse—for him to fall apart, to fall to his knees. But he just looked irritated, as if my impending death were merely another inconvenience to manage.

"So what do you want me to do?" he snapped, throwing his hands up. "Die with you? Sit in a hospital room and watch you waste away?"

Before he could finish, I slapped him again. Harder this time. My entire body trembled with a rage so profound it felt as though it might consume me from the inside out.

"I'm sorry I ever met you," I said, tears streaming down my face. "I thought you were someone I could count on. I thought you'd take care of Adrian if something happened to me. But I was wrong. You're nothing."

I turned and ran before he could say another word. Out of the apartment, out of the building, and into the cold, indifferent streets.

I ran until my lungs burned. I cried until my chest ached so deeply I thought my heart might actually stop. I cried until breathing felt like a task I no longer had the will to perform.

I didn't know where I was going. I just walked. The city was a blur of neon lights and moving shadows. People stared at me—a girl with puffy eyes and tangled hair—but I didn't care. Their judgment meant nothing to a ghost.

Someone bumped into me, hard. I barely felt the impact. I stepped off the curb without looking, and the roar of an engine came dangerously close.

Tires screeched.

A car swerved and missed me by inches.

"Hey!" the driver shouted, leaning out his window. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

I stopped in the middle of the asphalt and stared at him with hollow eyes.

"Go jump off a bridge if you want to die!" he yelled. "Don't drag other people into it!"

The bridge.

The word echoed inside my mind—a dark, tempting bell tolling in the distance.

Without thinking, I started walking again. Mechanical. Automatic. I was no longer Aria Sinclair. I was just a collection of failing cells that had outlasted their purpose.

The sky slowly darkened from orange to bruised purple, and then finally to black. Night fell over the city, and still I walked.

Until I reached the bridge.

I walked to its very center, where the wind was strongest. I stopped and looked over the edge. The river below was a churning abyss of black ink. Only the cold, indifferent moonlight reflected on the surface.

Then I thought of Adrian. He would be home by now, probably wondering where I was.

Fresh tears slipped down my face, cold this time. "I'm sorry, Adrian," I whispered to the wind. "I can't do this anymore. I can't let you watch me wither away into nothing. I can't let you spend your future paying for my funeral."

My chest tightened painfully. Every breath felt like a betrayal of the inevitable.

With a trembling hand, I climbed onto the railing.

My hands gripped the cold, rusted metal. My legs shook as I balanced on the narrow ledge. I looked down at the dark water one final time.

"I won't let the cancer take me piece by piece," I whispered. "This is better. Quick."

A bitter, hollow smile touched my face. In that last moment, I remembered my whole life—the small moments of joy overshadowed by immense pain. The endless struggle to keep us afloat. The crushing weight of love given to the wrong person.

"Maybe in the next life," I said quietly to the wind, my voice trembling, "the world will be kinder to me."

I let go of the railing.

And fell.

Straight into the welcoming darkness below.