The Substitute Heart

Chapter 1

“We should break up.”

That’s how I celebrated my 24th birthday—with a breakup.

I gripped the ribbon handle of the cake box tightly and quietly studied the man sitting across from me.

He wore a light brown turtleneck and had neatly cropped hair. His expression was calm—too calm. A half-burned cigarette rested between his fingers.

To him, ending a two-year relationship seemed as casual as asking, “Wanna grab dinner?”

So easy. So indifferent.

I caught the flicker in his eyes when he looked at the cake box—a flash of surprise, followed by a fleeting trace of guilt.

But only fleeting.

I paused, then placed the cake gently on the table and asked with forced composure, “Why?”

I had to admit—one thing about Eric Miller, he never loses his cool. No matter what happens, he always looks composed. Like now.

Even though he was the one betraying our relationship, he could still calmly say that the reason he wanted to break up… was because Claire Adams had come back.

Claire Adams. I’d heard her name plenty of times before—Eric’s first love. His unforgettable “one that got away.”

He lowered his eyes and spoke softly, without a hint of hesitation. “I’m sorry, Lily.”

I stayed quiet for a moment, then smiled. “It’s okay.”

Just like the past two years—whenever Eric Miller asked for anything, I always said yes with a smile, no matter what.

I lowered my gaze and said quietly, “Then let’s break up.”

No yelling. No crying. No clinging questions.

Eric looked genuinely stunned. Maybe even he hadn’t expected it to be this easy.

I picked up the cake, looked him in the eye, and said, “Eric Miller, I wish you happiness.”

He froze. It wasn’t until the cigarette burned his fingertip that he snapped out of it and quickly stubbed it out in the ashtray.

As usual, he didn’t know his own strength. The light glass ashtray tipped over, scattering ashes all across the table.

Eric instinctively looked up at me, as if expecting me to clean it up.

But I didn’t move.

I simply held the cake and said goodbye softly.

He didn’t respond. Just stared at me—his gaze slowly scanning me from head to toe.

He probably hadn’t expected that the girl who once loved him so deeply would now be so… calm.

But I wasn’t surprised. For the past two years, I had been the textbook “perfect girlfriend,” even in the eyes of his friends.

Always gentle. Never controlling. Never nagging about holidays, gifts, or surprises.

I split the bills. Never fought with him. Not once in two years.

I did everything a girlfriend was “supposed” to do.

Everyone—including Eric himself—knew how much I loved him.

After a long silence, Eric finally took a deep breath. “Let’s have some cake together.”

I gave a little laugh. “Sure.”

We ate the cake in silence, facing each other, with nothing more to say.

Once we cleaned up the table a bit, I stood to leave and said goodbye.

But after just two steps, he suddenly called out to me.

I turned around and saw him frowning, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

“What is it?” I asked.

He hesitated for a long moment, then shook his head. “Take the trash out for me, would you?”

“Sure.”

I answered pleasantly, picked up the bag by the door, and walked out.

After tossing it downstairs, I wandered aimlessly along the street.

My phone buzzed.

It was my best friend, Annie.
“Did you and Eric break up?”

I paused, then typed back:
“How’d you know?”

I thought maybe Annie just had her usual sixth sense—but after checking my social media like she suggested, I saw the real reason.

Eric Miller moved fast.

Less than thirty minutes after we broke up, he had already posted a photo with his new girlfriend.

I stopped walking, leaned against a streetlamp, and opened the photo.

In it, Eric was smiling ear to ear, arm around a girl. He looked giddy—happier than I’d ever seen him in our two years together. His eyes were practically slits from grinning so hard.

The girl had long hair, big eyes, a round face—and looked… vaguely like me.

Or maybe I looked like her.

If we didn’t look alike, he wouldn’t have used me as her stand-in for the past two years.

I stared at the photo for a long time, then closed it.

Beneath his post, a wave of confused comments from mutual friends:

“Wait, what’s going on?”
“You and Lily broke up?”
“Lily was such a good girlfriend. You really let her go?”

I scrolled, feeling a headache coming on.

Finally, I logged out of WeChat and turned off my phone.

The late autumn air was already tinged with winter’s chill. My fingertips were cold from thumbing through that feed.

I blew warm breath into my hands. When I looked up—

I saw him.

He was standing a few steps away from me, hands in his coat pockets. A camel-colored wool coat, black hair falling just to his brow. He stared at me with a half-smile, half-serious expression.

From his build, his style, even the way he looked at me—he reminded me so much of Eric Miller.

I froze.

My whole body tensed, and I stopped breathing for a moment.

I never thought I’d see him again. And definitely not tonight—on the very night of my breakup, on a random street, in the middle of nowhere.

Three years had passed, and yet he looked exactly the same. Calm. Composed. Eyes fixed on me like always.

He was the one who finally spoke.

“Lily,” he said, “long time no see.”

The moment those words left his mouth, my eyes went red.

When Eric broke up with me earlier, I had been cool and composed, even smiling through it.

But in front of this man—this man—I was still the same girl from years ago. The one who could tear up over just one sentence from him.

His name is Jason Clark. My ex from three years ago.

Eric and I were together for two years, and during that time, he made no effort to hide how much he missed his first love. Everyone knew I was just a stand-in.

But what no one knew was this—

Eric Miller was Jason Clark’s stand-in for me, too.

Chapter 2

The early winter air was sharp and cold.

I stood there on the quiet street, staring at him, momentarily forgetting how to react.

He walked toward me slowly.

When he reached me, he lifted a hand and gently ruffled my hair, the corners of his mouth tugging into a faint smile.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

It had been years, but somehow, when he did that, it didn’t feel awkward at all.

Jason Clark was quite a bit taller than me. Even standing right in front of me, he had to look down to meet my eyes.

I instinctively stepped back, shook my head, and tried to sound composed. “No. Just... surprised, that’s all.”

He let out a soft chuckle above me.

I didn’t dare look up at him. A few seconds later, I heard him ask, “Wanna grab something to eat?”

I hesitated, then finally nodded. “Sure.”

As we walked, I quietly studied him, trying to spot all the little changes in the years we’d been apart.

He looked a little thinner. His jawline sharper. He hadn’t shaved today—blue stubble dusted his chin.

And... he seemed single.

There wasn’t a ring on any of his fingers—not that it meant anything definitive. Still, it was something.

Jason glanced around, his eyes settling on the sign of a Sichuan-style fondue restaurant.

“How about fondue?”

“Okay,” I said without hesitation.

But truth was, I’d developed a pretty bad stomach over the past two years. Spicy food wrecked me.

Still, in front of Jason Clark, I just couldn’t say no.

When I was with Eric Miller, he used to joke to his friends behind my back that I was the “perfect girlfriend.” I knew about it. Never got mad. Never corrected him.

Because deep down, I knew—he wasn’t the one I couldn’t say no to.

That person was standing right here, right now.

—

Inside the fondue restaurant.

Jason handed me the menu. “Order whatever you like. It’s my treat. Don’t hold back.”

I shook my head and pushed the menu back. “You order. You should still remember what I like.”

He paused for a second, surprised. Then he took the menu and started ordering without further protest.

I watched him closely. I just wanted to test him. To see if he still remembered my tastes, my habits.

Because Jason was the forgetful type. If, after three years, he still remembered what I liked... it could only mean one thing—he hadn’t really let me go.

I kept my eyes on him.

With practiced ease, he ordered: beef cubes, mushrooms, sausages.

When it came to the broth, he didn’t even hesitate. “Spicy base,” he told the server, then added with a smile, “She can’t live without spice.”

After ordering, he handed the menu back to me. “See if there’s anything else you want.”

I flipped through a few pages, then added two more items: frozen tofu and baby bok choy.

Jason paused, then laughed.

Those were his favorites. While most people went for meat and mushrooms in a fondue pot, he only liked dunking tofu and vegetables into the spicy broth. Oddly specific.

While we waited for the food, Jason poured us both cups of tea.

“Are you seeing anyone right now?”

He passed me a cup and asked softly.

My heart skipped a beat.

The warmth of the tea seeped through the glass and into my palm. I kept my voice calm as I shook my head.

“No. Just broke up.”

He raised an eyebrow. “When?”

“Today.”

Jason blinked. Then chuckled. “Guess I’ve got great timing.”

I smiled but didn’t reply.

The silence stretched. After a while, I put my teacup down and looked at him. “Let’s have a few drinks.”

He blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes. “You drink now?”

I laughed lightly, trying to sound casual. “After the breakup, I drank a bit to cope. Picked it up along the way.”

At the mention of our breakup, Jason’s gaze dimmed. He said nothing, just raised a hand and ordered some beer.

By the time the broth was bubbling, we had each downed a bottle.

Steam rose from the pot. Through the haze, I looked at him. “Jason, have you dated anyone these past few years?”

“Yeah.”

He was honest. “I had two relationships. The first one—there was no real connection. We broke up after a few days.”

“What about the second?”

He went quiet for a moment, then looked at me. “She was a bit like you. But not as stubborn. She was gentle, and very accepting.”

I felt a small pang in my chest but kept pressing. “Then why did you break up?”

He gave a bitter smile. “She said I hadn’t moved on. That I shouldn’t waste her time.”

My heart skipped again.

Through the swirling steam, Jason looked at me and continued.

“She was right, honestly. I changed for her—really tried. I stopped being so controlling, toned down my temper, became more gentle. I tried to be a good boyfriend, to treat her well. But…”

“I didn’t love her.”

He lowered his gaze, shame flickering across his face. “Once she called me out, I realized it too. So we ended it.”

I nodded.

I wanted to ask if he still had feelings for me, but the words caught in my throat. I couldn’t say it.

I didn’t have to.

Jason said it for me.

“Lily... truth is, I never really got over you.”

My heart pounded.

But before I could react, a voice cut in.

“Lily White?”

I froze.

Turning my head, I saw Eric Miller standing just one table away.

He was still wearing the same sweater from earlier, awkwardly carrying what looked like his girlfriend’s purse. He must’ve been waiting for her.

Seriously?

We’d broken up barely an hour ago, and here we were—bumping into each other at a fondue restaurant just down the street from his place.

I wanted to be cool about it. To introduce Jason as my brand-new ex’s ex.

But Eric got in first.

He looked like the picture of betrayal—frowning, accusing, as if I had done something to him.

“So that’s why you agreed to the breakup so easily,” he said coldly. “You already had someone lined up.”

His eyes moved back and forth between Jason and me, finally settling on Jason’s face.

After staring for a beat, Eric’s lips curled into a mocking smirk.

“I see now, Lily. You found yourself a stand-in who looks just like me.”

Chapter 3

“...”

The atmosphere turned subtly tense in an instant.

I was never the kind of person who enjoyed making things awkward for others, but when I saw Jason Clark publicly embarrassed—and him not even reacting to it—I couldn't help but feel uneasy on his behalf.

Clearing my throat, I looked up at Eric Miller.

“Let me introduce you—this is Jason Clark, my ex from... three years ago.”

I deliberately emphasized the timing. Jason and I broke up three years ago. Eric and I had been together for two. Who was the stand-in? The math spoke for itself.

As expected.

The moment those words landed, Eric’s expression soured. He tried to say something—maybe to defend himself—but not a single word came out.

Luckily, just in time, his beloved "first love" appeared.

She seemed to have just come back from the restroom, fingertips still damp as she casually slid her hand into Eric’s arm.

“Why didn’t you grab a seat?”

Following Eric’s gaze, she looked over at me. For a split second, I saw surprise flash in her eyes, but she quickly masked it.

“Eric, are these your friends?”

She smiled, covering her mouth as if everything were fine. “What a coincidence. We look a little alike, don’t we?”

Eric fumbled a few words and then quickly led his new girlfriend away.

Watching them leave, I shook my head. With his dream girl finally by his side, Eric had lost that calm, composed aura he used to carry. He seemed more like a clumsy kid now, easily led.

Maybe that’s the difference between loving and not loving. You can only keep your cool when you’re with someone you don’t care about.

I looked away.

Lifting my cup of tea, I took a small sip. As I looked up again, I accidentally locked eyes with Jason Clark.

He sat there, arms folded, watching me with what looked like a smile.

I felt unexpectedly tense and took another sip to hide my discomfort. “What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing.”

He chuckled, mimicking my motions, and took a sip as well. Then, with a note of nostalgia, he said, “I just didn’t expect you to follow my taste when picking someone new.”

He set his cup down, half-jokingly adding, “Though... your standards have dropped a little.”

It was a self-indulgent thing to say—but somehow, it didn’t annoy me coming from him.

Jason had always been confident—borderline arrogant. That pride of his made our relationship rocky. We argued often.

The food was being served. Wine was poured.

We raised our glasses. Sitting across from him, I couldn’t help but sigh.

“Four people, three placeholders. That’s quite the coincidence.”

The only difference? That girl and I merely looked alike. Eric and Jason—they were the same soul, cut from the same cloth.

After the joke, a strange silence fell between us. We stared at each other through the haze rising from the bubbling cheese fondue. No one spoke.

The fondue pot had long started to boil, sending up a rich, savory aroma—but not a single bite had been dipped in yet.

I picked up a piece of sausage, dropped it into the pot, and started counting down. Just then, Jason spoke.

His voice was low, barely audible through the steam. I couldn’t quite read his expression.

“If you’re free tomorrow... I could go with you to visit your mom’s grave.”

My hand, midair with the skewer, froze.

It took me a while to recover. I gently pulled the sausage out, let the steam drift away, and said calmly, “No need. I went last week.”

He lowered his gaze, mouth opening like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

I smiled and popped the sausage into my mouth.

It was overcooked—chewy and too salty.

I frowned slightly.

We ate in relative peace, like two old friends catching up. Talking. Drinking. A lot.

The mix of sharp cheese and alcohol churned in my stomach. Soon, a dull ache crept into my belly.

I drank some warm water to ease it.

But Jason didn’t know. He kept loading food onto my plate, still smiling as he asked if I liked the flavor of the cheese.

I nodded with the piece of mushroom in my mouth. “It’s good.”

But honestly? My stomach was already on fire.

I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. Still so stubborn.

I thought I’d changed. I’d even fantasized about seeing Jason again—how amazed he’d be at my transformation.

But here I was, still the same silly, stubborn girl.

Even with a stomachache, I wouldn’t admit that I had gastritis now and couldn’t eat rich food anymore.

After another sip of water, I felt strangely sentimental.

I guess... I just missed him a little.

I missed those late nights at that fondue bistro, laughing and dipping bread into cheese until our stomachs hurt.

Midway through the meal, Jason reached into his pocket and slid something across the table toward me.

He looked at me softly. “Happy birthday.”

I froze.

It was a pearl bracelet.

Suddenly, memories surged—years ago, we had fought over a bracelet just like this.

Back then, I was a spoiled rich girl in everyone’s eyes. Jason had just graduated, full of ambition and pride.

To me, the bracelet was a minor expense. To him, it was a trigger.

Coming back to the moment, I found the bracelet already in my hand.

“Take it,” he said. “I was immature back then. I owed you a lot. Even giving you a bracelet felt like a stretch.”

Funny.

I thought I’d grown immune to feelings—but his words still made my eyes sting.

I didn’t say no. I held the bracelet up, examining it under the light. Then looked at him.

“You knew I’d be here today?”

He looked stunned, then shook his head honestly. “Of course not.”

“Then the bracelet?”

Jason laughed, poured himself a glass of wine, and downed it. “It became a habit. Every year on your birthday, I’d buy a pearl bracelet. But I never gave them to anyone.”

He smiled. “I’ve got two more just like this at home. I’ll bring them to you sometime.”

I picked up a piece of tofu, blew on it, and popped it into my mouth.

Chewed. And suddenly teared up.

I quietly wiped at my eyes, then looked up. “Jason... how can tofu from a fondue pot taste this spicy?”

He leaned forward and gently wiped my tears. His brows knit slightly.

“Lily... why don’t we start over?”

That’s what he asked me.

I looked at him, stunned for a second—but then shook my head.

“We’re not kids anymore. Life doesn’t hand you reset buttons.”

If we broke up simply because we weren’t compatible, we wouldn’t have gone on to date people who reminded us of each other.

There was a reason for the break. And some reasons... can’t be undone with one reunion and a few emotional words.

I took a deep breath and stood up. “I need the restroom.”

Jason nodded silently.

Inside the restroom, I stood by the window, letting in the cold winter air.

It was chilly, biting even. I shivered. But I needed the clarity.

After closing the window, I walked to the sink and glanced in the mirror.

The woman staring back had flushed cheeks and teary eyes.

Clearly, she’d been moved.

I turned on the tap, splashed cold water on my face. Thankfully, I wasn’t wearing makeup.

Just as I turned to leave—

I froze.

Someone stood at the restroom entrance.

And when I saw who it was, I frowned.

Of course. He just wouldn’t disappear.

“Eric Miller. This is the women’s restroom.”

“I know,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, frowning. “I just need to ask you something.”

I flicked the water off my hands. “Go on.”

“That man... did you bring him here to make me jealous?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Does it really matter?”

“It does,” he said firmly. “I don’t believe it.”

I was already tired. I tried to walk past him, but he grabbed my shoulder.

“I don’t believe... that I was just a stand-in for the past two years.”

His grip hurt.

I pushed him away. Honestly, more than anger, I just felt exhausted.

Look at him—he shamelessly treated me as someone else’s substitute. Everyone knew.

Yet when he realized he was now someone else's placeholder, he couldn’t take it.

Before I could respond, footsteps echoed in the hallway behind him.

And in the next moment—

Jason Clark appeared in the doorway.

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