“Aimee, is something wrong?”

Hearing Elio’s voice, I looked up into his eyes, and they were the same as always—no concern, no comfort, and certainly no love.

I gathered my composure and said to him, “Elio, I’m in the end stage of heart failure. I need a heart transplant to survive!”

Elio paused, then, frowning, replied, “Okay.”

Seeing him return to his usual impassive demeanor, the bitterness in my heart was unspoken. I wasn’t sure if Elio understood me, and even if he did, he was so busy he might forget.

Feeling disheartened, I decided to find a suitable heart on my own.

Elio had a stomach condition, so I...