The Anatomy of a Broken Heart

Hi, guys! I'm so excited to reveal that I have been selected to write an entry on behalf of Hulu for the #LookingForAlaska contest. My challenge was to tell a story about a pivotal first, and for that, I chose the seemingly earth-shattering experience of first heartbreak. Although Tom's story is purely fictional, it's a theme I've wanted to explore more in my writing—focusing particularly on how putting the pieces back together makes you a stronger person.

Be sure to check out the contest, and tell your own 500-word story about a life-changing first.

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My mouth is dry. My hands are shaking. And my stomach is so achingly twisted that my insides are tied in knots.

Still, on A-level results day, gut-wrenching nerves are the norm. At least nobody's questioned why I look like I'm about to keel over.

But it's nothing to do with what's inside that envelope.

I know I've got my priorities muddled. The only thing on my mind should be the future—specifically, whether I'll get the grades to get into medical school. But walking into the main hall also means something else: coming face to face with Theo.

Months since I last saw him, and I remember it in vivid detail. The day of my final exam. How elation turned to devastation when he said, after a year together, we needed to talk. The excuse about not tying us to a long-distance relationship at uni. And how that shattered when he started dating someone else weeks later.

How could I forget the crack that split the foundations of my entire world, bringing everything crashing down around me? Or the unrelenting ache in my chest, which once got so bad that I Googled the symptoms of a heart attack? I remember reading about a medical condition called broken heart syndrome, where emotional trauma can stop the heart working. It seemed ridiculous at the time—but there were nights this summer, when I was lying in bed and the tears wouldn't stop coming, that the risk felt alarmingly real.

Inside, I don't see Theo; I feel a flicker of hope that I won't have to do this at all. But once I've collected my envelope and am pushing through the crowd in search of a quiet spot, the familiar face appears in my peripheral vision, and he zones in on me the exact same way.

I thought the first glimpse would wrench open my stitched-up heart, but I just feel a little twinge.

"Tom," he says, catching me as I pass.

I swallow. "Theo. Hey."

He looks upbeat, better than ever, and I'm surprised to find this doesn't bother me. "God, it's been a while. How are you?"

"I'm good." And I mean it. "You?"

"Yeah, great! Just found out I got into Edinburgh, so... happy days."

"That's amazing. Congratulations."

"Thanks." He smiles gratefully, then glances at my unopened envelope. "Still in suspense, huh?"

I nod.

"Well, I won't keep you," he says. "But it's good to see you, Tom. Really. And I hope everything you deserve is coming your way."

He's looking at the envelope, but I know it means more. And once we've said goodbye, I watch him disappear into the crowd without the sadness I expected.

In fact, for the first time, I feel... okay.

Two months ago, it wouldn't have seemed possible. To face the boy who broke my heart and not crumble—instead, walk away stronger.

Maybethat's the thing about heartbreak. They do say time is the best healer.Perhaps, finally, I'm on the mend.