I had just moved in when the young male model across the hall called the police. He claimed I had fallen in love with him, turned bitter when he rejected me, and had been harassing him ever since—banging on his door, threatening him, and even trying to sexually coerce him.

When the police showed up, he pointed right at me and started yelling, “Pervert! You knock on my door every night! You even use binoculars to spy on me, and you’ve been posting my photos online!

“I’ve seen you! Standing by your window, staring at me, always trying to get close. It’s disgusting!”

The neighbors gathered around, whispering and pointing at me. Someone even shoved me, calling me shameless.

“Women like this are trash.”

“She looks normal. Who would've thought she's a creep?”

Under everyone’s accusations, I slowly took off my sunglasses, revealing the hollow sockets where my eyes should be. “Officer, how exactly is a blind person supposed to peep at anyone?”

My voice was soft, but it cut through the noisy room like a sharp spike.

The neighbors who had been shoving and shouting froze for a moment. The middle-aged woman leading the charge left her hand hanging awkwardly in the air, forgetting to bring it down.

Every gaze locked on my face. Or rather, on the two hollow, empty sockets where my eyes should have been. They were the permanent scars a fire had left me three years ago.

The officer in charge, a seasoned cop with the surname Wright, paused for a moment before frowning. His voice dripped with impatience. “Cut the act. If you’re really blind, a hospital can confirm it.”

Across the hall, Curtis Lowe's voice faltered for a split second before rising again. “She’s lying! She’s just trying to get out of this! How could she be blind? Every night, she stands by the window, watching me!”

Halfway through his rant, his eyes landed on my empty sockets. His voice trembled, and his words lost their edge. “That’s disgusting! Seriously disgusting!”

His shout stirred the crowd again.

“Exactly! She’s faking it!”

“People these days will do anything to escape punishment. No lie is too low!”

A young woman, filled with righteous anger, even lunged forward, trying to grab my collar. “You’re absolutely vile!”

Officer Wright quickly blocked her. “Hey! Nobody moves! Let the police handle this!”

He turned back to me. The suspicion and disgust in his eyes were completely unchanged. “You’re coming with us.”

I did not resist. I calmly held out my hands. Cold metal snapped around my wrists. Two young officers escorted me, one on each side, toward the elevator. Behind me, the neighbors’ curses blurred into a chaotic roar.

“Scum of society!”

“Get out of our building!”

“Hope you rot in prison!”

I could not see their expressions. However, I could clearly hear the satisfaction in their voices—the kind that came from grinding someone into the dirt.

The elevator doors slid shut, sealing off the noise outside.

One of the younger officers, probably new, could not help but ask in a low voice,

“Are you… really blind?”

I curled my lips into a faint, humorless smile but said nothing.

The other officer patted his shoulder, signaling him to keep quiet.

Yet I already knew. In their minds, the scales had tipped completely toward that tearful young man.

After all, he was a handsome male model and still a student. I was a woman who lived alone and always wore sunglasses. In their eyes, I was strange.

To them, it was already decided who the victim was and who the offender was.

What those people did not know was that sometimes, what the eyes saw was the greatest lie of all.

I, a blind woman, could hear things none of them could. For example, when Curtis accused me, his heartbeat was steady, and there was not a single ripple of guilt or panic.

…

The interrogation room in the police station was lit by a harsh white fluorescent light. The air smelled faintly of mildew. I sat in a cold metal chair. Across from me were Officer Wright and a female officer taking notes.

“Name.”

“Yvie Lane.”

“Age.”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Occupation.”

“Unemployed.”

Officer Wright slammed his pen down on the table. The sharp sound cut through the room. “Yvie, I suggest you start telling the truth! There’s witness testimony and physical evidence. How long are you going to keep denying it?”

I tilted my head slightly toward the direction of his voice. My tone was still calm. “May I ask, who is the witness? And what is the evidence?”

“The witness is the victim, Curtis! And the evidence…” Officer Wright paused for a moment. His voice was noticeably faltering. “The evidence is still being collected! Don’t think denying it will get you out of this!”

His voice rose, trying to overwhelm me with pressure.

“Curtis has already explained everything! You moved in a week ago and started targeting him. You knocked on his door every night at exactly 8:00 pm. While he was showering, you used binoculars to spy on him from across the hall!

“Not only that, you even took photos of him and sold them on overseas websites! This is a serious crime! If you confess now, you can still get leniency!”

I almost laughed. It was impressively detailed. The time, place, behavior, and motive were neatly arranged. If I were not the one being accused, I might have believed it myself.

“Officer Wright," I cut him off. “First, I don’t own binoculars. Second, I have no so-called ‘tools.’ My computer and phone were replaced three years ago with assistive devices for the visually impaired. They cannot take photos or display images.”

I paused for a moment. My voice was slow and precise. “Third, and most importantly, I am completely blind.”

There was a brief silence in the room.

Officer Wright’s breathing grew heavier. “I already told you, don’t use that as an excuse! Whether you’re really blind will be confirmed by a medical examination! Until then, you're the prime suspect!”

At that moment, the door opened. A young officer poked his head in. “Sir, the victim is very emotional. He’s been crying nonstop, saying he’ll report us to higher authorities for protecting the suspect.”

Officer Wright’s expression darkened instantly.

“Got it.” He waved the officer away, then turned back to me. His voice was colder than before.

“Do you understand the pressure we’re under because of you? He’s a top university student. This case has public attention. If we mishandle it, the entire precinct will be held accountable.”

I finally understood. He cared about the outcome more than the truth. Or more precisely, he was looking for a quick, convenient outcome. The easiest way to get it was for me to confess.

“So, just to avoid accountability, I should admit to something I never did?”

My question clearly set Officer Wright off.

“What kind of attitude is that? Do you even know where you are?!” Officer Wright let out a cold laugh. “Let me make this clear. Once you’re in here, don’t put on airs. And just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean you’re the victim! You won’t talk? Fine. We’ve got plenty of ways to make you talk!”

The chair screeched harshly as it was shoved back. He rose to his feet and lowered his voice. “Lock her up first. Once we get the warrant, search her place thoroughly. I want to see how long she can keep this up.”

The door opened again. Two officers walked in and grabbed my arms, one on each side.

I did not resist.

The moment Curtis called the police, I already realized that this was not a misunderstanding. It was a setup. Since they dared to go this far, they must have already prepared the evidence.

Next, they would search my apartment—things that were never there to begin with. I would be permanently branded as a voyeur and a harasser. There would be no way to clear my name unless I tore this trap apart first.

…

The cold iron door slammed shut behind me with a heavy echo. I was locked in a temporary holding cell. The room was small. There was only a hard cot and a toilet. The air smelled of disinfectant mixed with stale dampness.

I traced the wall slowly, found the bed, and sat down, listening quietly to the sounds outside.

Footsteps echoed up and down the hallway, mixed with deliberately hushed whispers.

“That’s the sicko who was spying on people?”

“She looks normal. Didn’t expect something this disgusting.”

“I heard she’s blind. Probably faking it.”

“Who knows? Either way, she’s done for.”

Their voices were like fine needles, piercing into my ears one by one.

I had long been used to darkness. However, for the first time, it felt cold enough to cut.

About two hours later, the metal door opened again. It was Officer Wright. He was holding a transparent evidence bag. His steps were noticeably lighter. He waved it in front of me.

“Yvie, take a look at this.”

Then, as though remembering I could not see, he scoffed and answered his own question.

“We found this under your windowsill… A pair of military-grade binoculars!”

There was barely concealed triumph in his voice. “And this!”

Another evidence bag hit the table with a soft plastic rustle.

“A digital camera. It’s full of photos of Curtis, taken from every angle. Filthy stuff! So, is there anything you’d like to say now?”

I did not respond immediately. Deep down, a storm was already raging.

That was fast. The evidence was already perfectly in place in such a short time.

Officer Wright noticed my silence and assumed I had nothing left to say. He pulled over a chair and sat across from me, his tone suddenly shifting into something almost persuasive.

“Yvie, you’re still young. You’re not without options. Why go down this path? Now that the evidence is all here, denying it won’t help. If you confess early, I might be able to put in a good word for you and get you a lighter sentence.”

A statement was pushed in front of me. The sound of paper scraping against the table was sharp and clear.

“Go on. Press your fingerprint and this will all be over.”