Two weeks before my wedding day, something miraculous happened. My hearing, which I had lost while trying to save Grayson Kingsley, my fiancé, was unexpectedly restored due to a high fever.

It felt as if this was a special gift from God, given to me as a blessing for my upcoming wedding.

Excited by this sudden turn of events, I immediately hailed a taxi to Grayson's company, eager to share this delightful news with him. Finally! After years of silence, I could finally hear again.

However, the first words I heard were not what I expected.

"Lily, I've had enough of her constant moral blackmail."

"The person I truly want to marry is you, Lily. Since she keeps using her parents' deaths to force me into this marriage, I'll show you my sincerity by running away from the wedding."

The next moment, Lily grabbed my fiancé's phone and dialed my number. Though my mind was numb with disbelief, my hands mechanically moved to answer the call.

As soon as I picked up, I was greeted by the sound of their heavy breathing. Grayson, panicked, seemed ready to end the call.

Lily stopped him, holding up the phone defiantly. "What are you afraid of? She's deaf anyway. Besides, doesn't this make it even more thrilling?"

Their voices twisted into something disgusting as I listened to the joyful sounds of the two of them on the other end. With trembling hands, I pressed the record button on my phone.

Capturing every moment, my heart sank into a sea of despair.

On the day of the wedding, instead of walking down the aisle, I found myself buying a plane ticket to London.

His desperate calls and frantic messages began flooding in. Finally, unable to bear his incessant questioning, I sent him the recording with a simple message. [Grayson, I can hear you.]

***

"Who is there?!"

I could almost hear the surprise in his voice. Trembling, I nearly collapsed against a nearby glass door.

From behind that door, I could still hear Grayson's voice.

My vision blurred and for a moment, I felt like a rat scurrying through the gutter, trapped in a maze of shame and humiliation that I could not escape from.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, I realized the noises from inside had ceased. The sound of intermingled breaths once again filled the air.

Even I had no idea how I managed to leave and get home.

When I finally turned on the light at home, I saw something shocking, bloody footprints leading from the front door.

Only then did I realize, in my desperation to find Grayson, that I had rushed out without even putting on shoes.

Somewhere along the way, I must have stepped on shattered glass. My hands numbly began pulling out the shards from my feet, each piece tugging at my flesh. Yet even as the blood and pain blurred together, it did not compare to the deep, suffocating ache in my heart.

My fever had not yet subsided.

I collapsed onto the sofa, the weight of it all pressing down on me. Tears welled up, slowly soaking the pillow beneath me as I lay there.

Oh, how I wished with every ounce of my being that this was all just a terrible dream.

I clung to the faint hope that I would wake up and nothing would have changed, that in half a month, I would still be Grayson's bride, walking down the aisle towards the future I had spent ten years dreaming of.

But the harsh sounds of children playing upstairs, the blare of car horns from the street below, all grounded me in the harsh reality that none of this was a dream…

I had no idea how long I remained in that dazed state before a sudden sharp pain brought me back to the present.

Groggily, I opened my eyes and saw Grayson kneeling at my feet, his hands gently extracting the remaining shards of glass from my soles and then he carefully applied medicine to my wound.

For ten long years, ever since my parents had died in the fire trying to save him, he had taken it upon himself to care for me.

I had lost my hearing too and in return, he had built this routine of caretaking.

After he had finished cleaning and bandaging my wounds with his usual efficiency, he looked up at me.

I also met his gaze.

Yet, he did not even ask how I had hurt myself.

Instead, in a tone laced with irritation, he muttered, "You know you're deaf. Why don't you just stay at home so you don't troubling others?"

Probably realizing at that moment that his words had fallen on deaf ears, Grayson's expression shifted. He frowned deeply before saying coldly, "That's it. I don't want to marry someone like you."

That sentence felt like a dagger twisting in my chest and my heart tightened painfully.

At that moment, I found myself suddenly transported back to my high school days.

I still remember it clearly when a group of kids followed me one afternoon, laughing and jeering as they trailed behind. I could not hear them, of course. I could not make out what they were saying.

So, I continued walking, my head held high, pretending that everything was fine.

But Grayson, who had come to pick me up that day, could not hold back. His anger bubbled over and he rushed at the group, struggling with them until they finally scattered.

By the time the confrontation ended, he was covered in tears of frustration. He pulled me into his arms, holding me close, though I did not fully understand why.

Confused, I asked why he had fought with them.

"They called you deaf, Naomi... but you're not deaf. You have ears and I'll always be your ears..."

His voice cracked with raw emotion and that day, for the first time, I realized how truly sad and cruel the world could be for someone like me.

But at that moment, it did not matter to me. It did not matter because Grayson had promised that he would always be there, that he would be my ears.

Now, here I stood, with my hearing fully restored, so why did the word 'deaf' come out of Grayson's own lips?

Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill, but I forced them back as I clenched my fists hard.

Perhaps I had been blind, too.

I saw him pursed his thin lips. Then, in quick, almost mechanical movements, he raised his hands and gestured in sign language. "Does it hurt?"

Before I could even muster a reply, his phone vibrated.

And right there, without hesitation, in front of me, he opened it, casually clicking on a voice message from Lily Winslow. Her voice spilled from the speakers. "Mr. Kingsley, you're so great that the legs of a woman you kiss go weak."

Lily and Grayson had known each other since their college days.

After returning to Washington, she had taken up the role of his secretary to the general manager. It was not unusual for the two of them to exchange voice messages frequently.

At first, it seemed harmless, just work-related matters passing between them, even in the middle of the night. Out of my unwavering trust in Grayson, I never thought much of it. I convinced myself that they were merely discussing business, nothing more.

"There are a lot of things I can do even better. Want to try?"

I heard Grayson reply to one of her voice notes, a smile playing on his lips, one that lingered, unwavering, even after he spoke.

"Who are you talking to?" I asked, my voice cutting through the air unexpectedly.

My words startled him, just for a split second, but then he quickly regained his composure.

He gestured to me in sign language, his hands moving swiftly, "Customer, there is a batch of goods that is urgent."

The second after he finished answering in sign language, he turned back to his phone, instantly sending another voice message. "I bought a set of underwear for Naomi. It looks good on her. I'll buy another set next time. You can show me how to wear it."

"No, I don't want to. I don't want to wear the same thing as that deaf."

Her words pierced through me. I could no longer stand to hear their explicit exchange, so I limped away and made my way to my room.

I reached for the family photo of my parents, clutching it close to my chest. Curled up on the bed, I pulled the blanket over my head.

In the end, I just let the overwhelming despair overwhelm me.

Unfortunately, the walls were too thin. Their voices seeped through, the sound of their unrestrained teasing growing louder with each passing moment.

Every word they exchanged felt like a slow, torturous cut, each one slicing deeper into my heart.

Grayson, the man I once thought so noble, now seemed irreparably tainted. I looked at him now with nothing but disgust. This was not the man I wanted anymore.

And as their conversation dragged on, a sudden loud slam echoed from the living room.

I sat up in bed, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on my chest. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I saw that it was already twelve o'clock, midnight.

Whatever Grayson was doing, at this hour, it was clear enough.

I felt the cold night breeze sneaking in through the window, carrying with it a sharp chill that seemed to cut through the fog in my mind. The chaos and pain that had gripped my heart for so long were slowly giving way to clarity.

My eyes drifted to the bedside table. There, resting innocently, were the gold-plated invitations. I had spent two weeks meticulously choosing the perfect design.

With a deep breath, I picked up my phone and dialed my uncle's number. "Uncle, I want to come find you, Grandpa and Grandma."

On the other end, my uncle's voice was immediately filled with concern. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

His words were tinged with worry, but then he remembered that I could not hear him. Silence filled the line, broken only by the faint "click click" sound of his typing on his phone.

"No, nothing's wrong. I just miss you."

I responded, though as the words left my mouth, I felt a sudden sting in my eyes and my voice trembled with unshed tears.

Years ago, when my parents passed away, my uncle had been overseas, working and taking care of my grandparents.

As soon as he heard the news, he rushed back to Washington, ready to take me with him.

But back then, I could not bear to leave. My heart was still trapped in the small house that smelled like my parents.

And later, it was Grayson that I could not let go of. So, even though my grandparents had expressed their longing to see me again, time and time again, I had stubbornly refused.

"As long as you are fine, that's all that matters. As long as you are fine…"

My uncle's voice on the other end was filled with emotion, his excitement almost incoherent and then he paused. His tone was surprised.

"Nao, your hearing..."

"Yes, Uncle. I can hear you."

After a few more exchanged words, I hung up the phone.

My uncle wasted no time. He booked a flight for me immediately and it was set for the same day as my wedding.

As I read through the dozens of messages he sent me, offering reassurance and love, my nose stung with the familiar feeling of tears building up again.

All these years, I had distanced myself from him and my grandparents who truly loved me, all because of a man like Grayson Kingsley. Looking back now, I had been blind, foolish even.

Grayson did not come home until late into the night. He slipped into bed with the chill of air-conditioning clinging to his skin and the unmistakable scent of perfume lingering on his clothes.

Ever since my parents passed away, I had carried a deep sense of insecurity, one that often kept me on edge. But somehow, wrapped in his arms, I used to find the peace I needed to fall asleep.

As time passed, though, things changed. Lily's late-night calls for him became more frequent. Being a light sleeper, I was often jolted awake in the middle of the night. Eventually, I stopped trying to sleep at all, keeping my eyes wide open until dawn broke through the curtains.

Tonight, when Grayson's arm instinctively stretched out to hold me, I avoided it, sliding further away from him. To my surprise, for the first time in a long while, I managed to sleep well through the night.

The next morning, as soon as I woke up, I saw a set of black lace underwear in the dirty laundry basket that I had never worn before.

My heart sank as the memory of their conversation from last night replayed in my mind. Without a second thought, I walked over and threw the underwear into the trash.

I was not so sure if it was my cold demeanor the previous night or something else, but Grayson seemed to notice a shift. The man who had not shared a meal with me in over six months suddenly decided to make breakfast for the two of us with his own hands.

I sat at the table, staring down at the bowl, gently stirring the seafood pasta with my spoon, but I could not bring myself to take a bite.

Across from me, Grayson's phone kept buzzing, lighting up with a constant stream of messages.

In the voice message, Lily said good morning to him playfully, followed by a mock complaint about how he had not been gentle with her last night, leaving her sore. She teased that he would have to massage her waist, using his own hands to make up for it.

Grayson chuckled softly, not even bothering to look at me. He pressed the voice button to reply, his tone light and teasing, "Is it that I don't know how to treasure such beauty, or is it that my little junior just can't get enough of you?"

"Oh, and Naomi bought some massage cream for me last time. I'll bring it over for you later."

I watched him in silence, taking in the way he spoke so naturally, so comfortably, as if this exchange was nothing new. This had likely played out countless times over the years right in front of me.

They kept exchanging voice messages for a while.

After what felt like an eternity, Grayson finally noticed that I had not touched my breakfast.

"You don't like it?"

I set my spoon down carefully and replied, "I'm allergic to seafood."

His phone, still in hand, finally stilled for a moment. A flicker of impatience crossed his face.

"Annoying."

Without waiting for my response, he asked in sign language if I would prefer a sandwich instead.

I simply shook my head as an answer.

As I walked past the calendar hanging on the wall, I could not help but notice the marked date for trying on wedding dresses. It had already been over a week since the scheduled fitting.

There was a time when I did not understand how anything could be more important than preparing for our wedding. What kind of job was more important than our future together?

But that was before. Before I had scrolled through Lily's social media and before I learned the truth of how Grayson had truly spent his time. While he claimed to be swamped with work, too busy to take wedding photos with me, he somehow managed to find the hours, even days, to accompany his assistant on vacations. I saw photos of them climbing mountains, watching sunsets by the sea and soaking in hot springs.

Calmly, I reached up and tore the page from the calendar, crumpling it into a tight ball before tossing it into the trash.

Then, without another glance, I turned back into the house. The soft thud of the paper ball hitting the bottom of the trash can must have finally caught his attention, pulling him out of whatever world he had been lost in.

I could feel his eyes looking at the closed door, sensing the shift, the change. Unease flickered across his face.

"Shall I accompany you to try on wedding dresses today?"

I was sitting quietly, flipping through the pages of a visa application process. His question startled me for a brief moment. In the end, I only nodded with a faint smile.

I recalled the day when the eighteen-year-old version of him had stood outside a bridal shop as we gazed through the glass at the beautiful gowns. He said that Naomi would be his most beautiful bride in the future.

Fifteen-year-old me just smiled and nodded. From that moment on, my birthday wishes each year had always been the same. I wanted to marry the man of my dream.

It was just a way to put an end to a lingering dream of the past between Grayson Kingsley and Naomi Blakemore.

At the bridal shop, I stood before the mirror, dressed in a flowing, pure white wedding gown with a burn scar exposed on my shoulder. The bridal stylist glanced at it uncomfortably, her expression tense as she said, "Miss Blakemore, maybe you would like to try this one instead?"

This was the fifth dress I had tried on today.

It was a mark left from the fire when I had risked everything to save Grayson. The scar was too prominent, too stubbornly large to be easily concealed.

I noticed a flicker of guilt pass over his face and for a moment, his fingers hovered over his phone screen before finally turning off the screen.

He reached out instinctively as if he wanted to touch the burn scar like he had done countless times before, but I pulled away.

His hand hung in the air, momentarily frozen, caught between past habits and present distance.

"There are too many people here," I mumbled a half-hearted excuse.

A cloud of confusion briefly filled his gaze, but it quickly cleared as he tightened his grip on my hand. "Are you embarrassed by the scar? It's alright, Nao. You'll always be the most beautiful to me."

I was caught off guard. For a split second, I thought I saw a glimmer of the eighteen-year-old Grayson.

However, the moment faded as quickly as it came.

Our relationship was much like these wedding dresses. Either the style was all wrong, or the fit could not hide the scars that marred us both.

Perhaps, most of all, it was the fact that the purity had already been tainted.

"Yeah." I gave a short, indifferent response and gently pulled my hand from his grip, turning to the fitting room to change into yet another dress.

When I was done removing the gown, wearing nothing but the lingerie underneath, I heard a familiar sound outside the fitting room. It was Grayson's phone and the unmistakable, sticky-sweet voice of Lily poured through the speaker.

She complained about how her period cramps were unbearable, how it felt as though she were about to die. And, of course, Grayson's voice turned instantly warm, soothing her.

So, I dressed quickly.

Just as I slipped on my clothes, Grayson, with impatience boiling over, shoved open the fitting room door, ignoring the bridal stylist's protests. "Naomi, are you dead in there?! Why are you so slow!"

His hand was still pressing down on the voice button of his phone and in the next breath, his tone softened dramatically as he spoke to Lily again. "Don't worry, I'll be there to keep you company soon."

I stared at him, my gaze unwavering. Guilt flickered across his face, but only for a heartbeat.

Sensing the tension, the bridal stylist forced a bright smile, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. "You two are about to get married soon. A gentler tone wouldn't hurt, right?"

However, Grayson merely scoffed. "She's just deaf. Do I really need to watch my tone around her?"

Perhaps, with those words, he was reassuring himself as much as he was reassuring anyone else in the room.

The guilty flicker in his eyes vanished in an instant like it had never existed.

He was not even interested in asking why I had stopped trying on wedding dresses.

A second after he sent his last voice message, he turned to me with a stern look, hastily signaling in sign language that something very urgent had come up at work and he had to return to the office immediately.

After saying that, he strode out of the store without another glance, leaving only the faint echo of Lily's sugary voice, lingering in the air.

The bridal stylist had been an unwitting witness to this painfully clear love triangle, her expression a mixture of sympathy and shock as her gaze fell on me.

She gently took the wedding dress from my hands, pausing before asking with soft hesitation, "Would you like to reschedule your appointment to come back and try it on another day?"

It was only after she spoke that she recalled I could not hear her voice, so she began reaching for paper and pen to write her message down.

I gave her a soft, reassuring smile. "No need. And don't worry about refunding the deposit."

"You can hear? Then just now..."

Her eyes widened in surprise. With a bitter twist to my smile, I pressed the recording button nestled discreetly in my pocket. I turned without another word and walked out of the shop.

In the days that followed, Grayson did not return home. Instead, he became a frequent face in Lily's online posts.

As I was in the midst of packing up my belongings, I inadvertently stumbled upon his other mobile phone, hidden away among my things. The contents within that phone sent a chill coursing through my already composed heart, making it feel as though it had turned to ice once more.

While he had been wrapped in their world, I had quietly applied for my visa. And then, I started to pack my stuff at home.

We had spent ten years together, with countless captured moments.

Before Lily Winslow came back to his life, he once insisted on documenting every part of our life, begging me to pose for countless photos, his camera never far from his hands.

But ever since he started his career, rising swiftly through the ranks and since Lily came back into his life. Even when I stood right in front of him, smiling, he would not even bother lifting the camera he once cherished so much.

The focus of his camera, which was once aimed at me, had become a privilege exclusively reserved for Lily Winslow.

During New Year's Eve, I tried once more to bring us together, suggesting we take a family photo. He waved me off, calling me childish and slapping my hand away in disgust.

Yet, moments later, in the reflection of Lily's online posts, they were smiling side by side.

I had been both deaf and blind, missing the provocations that were glaringly obvious.

As I gathered the thousands of photos we had taken together over the years, I burned them all, watching as the flames consumed every memory. The firelight flickered against my face, eerily reminiscent of the day my parents passed away.

With only eight days left until the wedding, Grayson finally returned home.

He looked exhausted. It must have been draining taking care of Lily all this time.

As he stepped inside, his eyes swept over the room, noticing the absence of many things.

He stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing as confusion set in. He turned to me, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "Why does it feel like the house is so empty?"

I said nothing.

He glanced around again, more carefully this time and his gaze eventually landed on the wedding countdown calendar. But instead of concern for the changes at home, a playful expression crossed his face as he asked me. "Have you chosen your wedding dress?"

I nodded and a brief flash of satisfaction appeared on his face. "Good."

Then, without a word, he turned around and headed into the bathroom to wash up, but as I stood there, something caught my eye. The sight of his running shoes in the entryway.

I bent down, opened them and examined them closely. They were exactly the same as the pair Lily had flaunted on her Instagram post earlier tonight, except hers were the women's version.

The caption she had posted alongside the photo still echoed in my mind. [We will soon run towards the happiness that belongs to us.]

The next morning, as if nothing had happened, Grayson went off to work as usual. Meanwhile, I continued packing my things.

Looking around, I saw that the house I had once decorated so lovingly now felt so empty. Yet, to my surprise, the sight of it made me breathe a sigh of relief.

If I left without a trace, perhaps it would not affect their pursuit of happiness, right?

Everything was prepared and it was already the night before the wedding.

Then, out of the blue, I received a call from one of Grayson's friends, saying Grayson was drunk and asking me to pick him up.

As soon as I pushed open the door to the private room, I saw Grayson lying on top of Lily.

They did not even flinch when I entered. Even one of his friends greeted me with a sneer, "Mr. Kingsley, your cute little deaf girl is here to take you home."

Lily, who had been smiling proudly, put on a show of false sympathy, pretending to stand up for me. "Oh, you guys, don't bully the disabled!"

After saying that, she leaned into Grayson's ear and whispered, loud enough for me to hear, "Mr. Kingsley, Naomi is here."

At her words, Grayson stirred and immediately straightened himself up from her.

He stumbled towards me, his face flushed. Without warning, he grabbed my shoulders and shook me violently. "Naomi! Why? Why didn't you die in that fire with your parents?!"

"Are you really that pathetic? I've already agreed to marry you and yet you still follow me around like some pathetic little pug, clinging to me day and night!"

I had thought I was ready for this. I had planned to leave, no matter what I saw or heard. I had convinced myself that nothing could touch me anymore, that my heart was beyond being broken.

But for ten years, I had been by his side and now I was hearing that he had actually wished for my death.

My heart, which I had thought was numb, began to beat erratically.

I looked around at his friends. None of them seemed surprised. At that moment, it dawned on me that every time I had come to pick him up, he had said something similarly cruel.

I had brushed it off, thinking he was just stressed from work. I had always tried to comfort him.

"You're drunk."

I forced my voice to remain calm, suppressing the storm of emotions raging inside me.

After all, this would be the last time we would meet, so let him do whatever he wanted to do before we parted ways.

However, just as I turned to leave, Lily made her move, stepping forward deliberately to stand by his side. "Mr. Kingsley, who do you want to go home with tonight? Me or Naomi?"

Without hesitation, the drunken Grayson shoved me away.

His arms instantly wrapped around Lily, pulling her close as he buried himself in her embrace. "Of course, it's you. She's deaf. How could she ever compare to you?"

The room immediately erupted in laughter.

I staggered backward from the impact, only to slam into the sharp edge of the coffee table. Pain shot through my knees.

As I looked up, I saw Grayson still entangled in Lily's arms. I forced myself to stand and straightened as much as I could before saying coldly, "Then, as you wish."

With that, I limped toward the door.

Behind me, I heard Lily murmur, "Did someone just use sign language for her just now?"

Early the next morning, I left the ring he had given me on the coffee table, the same ring he had slipped onto my finger when he proposed to me.

Sitting in the back seat of a taxi en route to the airport, my phone began buzzing relentlessly. Grayson's parents were calling again and again.

I did not answer any of them.

A message came in from Grayson, his words as oblivious as ever, asking if I was feeling nervous and wondering when I would arrive. He even mentioned how beautiful I must look today and how he could not wait to see me.

The irony stung, thinking of those matching running shoes they wore. Silently, I added his number to my block list.

Then, just one minute before boarding, an unknown number lit up my screen.

I pressed the answer button. Grayson's voice burst through, harsh and scolding, accusing me of being late on our wedding day. He was practically shouting that everyone was already waiting for me at the venue.

I found it almost amusing, watching the runway pass as the plane prepared to depart, its engines humming steadily. The timing couldn't have been more perfect.

His voice was finally cracked as he demanded to know where I was.

Then, he seemed to remember that I was not supposed to hear him at all. In a flurry of panic, he scrambled to hang up so he could message me instead.

Just a heartbeat before he could, I interrupted, "Grayson, I can hear you."