The Arrhythmia of Lies

My girlfriend’s childhood best friend heard about my severe arrhythmia and decided to spike my water with a high-caffeine energy drink.

The moment I drank it, my heart exploded into a frantic, hammering rhythm. A cold, sharp pain clenched around my ribs. I fumbled for the single packet of emergency powder I carried, tearing it open, only to find the hot water from the kettle had been replaced with black coffee.

After one desperate gulp, my vision went gray. A chilling numbness spread through my limbs, and I collapsed, unable to move.

Leo threw his head back and laughed until tears streamed down his face.

"You've gotta hand it to you, for an actor, that's convincing," he said, wiping his eyes. "I've been a doctor for a long time. Never seen anyone get this worked up over a Red Bull."

I crawled toward my girlfriend, Chloe, the taste of blood in my mouth from clenching my jaw.

"Chloe, call 911. I'm not kidding. I'm not okay."

She waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, stop. You're taking this too far. It's not funny anymore. Nobody dies from an energy drink."

She gestured toward Leo. "He's a doctor. What could possibly happen with him right here?"

I stopped begging her and sent a single, pre-written emergency text.

1

"What the hell are you doing? It was a joke. Are you really going to leak this to the press?"

Chloe snatched my phone. When she couldn't unlock it, she threw it against the wall, shattering the screen.

By then, my chest was a vise. Black spots danced in my vision. I was on my knees, clutching my heart, pleading with her like a dog.

"I didn't call anyone, Chloe. I really have arrhythmia. Please… call an ambulance."

For a flicker of a second, I saw something shift in her expression—a crease of concern between her brows. But before she could act, Leo pulled her away. He sat back down at the table, legs crossed, and started tapping a wine glass with his fork, a sharp, rhythmic clink, clink, clink.

"Ethan, you're being a real buzzkill," he said, his voice oozing with false sincerity. "Chloe came here tonight to celebrate my promotion. Are you so jealous you have to ruin it for everyone?" He let out a short, cynical laugh. "Some big-shot actor you are. All that talent for faking drama, and you use it for this pathetic crap."

Every breath was a struggle. It felt like a cinder block was sitting on my sternum.

They were inseparable, Chloe and Leo. The kind of childhood best friends that stories are written about. Whenever Chloe and I had a date night, Leo would just… show up. I’d complained, so many times, but she always treated it as perfectly normal.

"Leo is family, Ethan. Don't be so insecure."

Leo would always chime in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "She's like my sister. I'm just looking out for her, making sure you're good enough."

He said "sister," but when we'd walk through the city, they’d be the ones holding hands, leaving me trailing behind them like a third wheel. Chloe had this thing about germs, a full-blown phobia. She insisted we ...