Two weeks before the wedding, the hearing I'd lost while saving Santiago Ramos was suddenly returned because of a high fever.

Assuming it was a wedding gift from God, I immediately took a taxi to Santiago's company to surprise him.

But the first thing I heard him say after so many years was, "Dora, I'm sick of Susanna guilt-tripping me.

"You're the one I want. Since she insists on using her parents' death to force me into marrying her, I'll prove my choice by running out of the wedding."

The next second, Dorothy Garcia called me with Santiago's phone. I numbly swiped to answer.

Through the phone, I heard their heavy breathing.

Santiago tried to hang up in a panic, but Dorothy held up the phone and laughed. "What are you afraid of? She's deaf anyway. Besides, doesn't this make it more exciting?"

Listening to the disgusting moans spilling through the speaker, I hit record, my heart shattering into countless pieces.

On the day of the wedding, I bought a plane ticket to London.

When Santiago called, demanding to know where I was, I sent him the recording. "Santiago, my hearing's back."

***

My knees buckled with fright, and I accidentally bumped into the glass door.

"Who's there?" Santiago's voice sounded from inside.

Tears blurred my vision as humiliation and disbelief swallowed me whole. I stood there, trembling like a rat, too terrified to breathe.

Moments later, perhaps emboldened by the silence, their ragged breathing started again.

I didn't know how I made it home.

When I turned on the light and saw the bloody footprints by the door, I finally realized I'd been in such a rush to find Santiago that I forgot to wear shoes.

Somewhere along the way, I must've stepped on broken glass. I pulled the shard out myself, bringing a chunk of flesh with it, but the pain couldn't even compare to my heartbreak.

My fever hadn't gone down.

I lay on the couch, dazed, tears soaking the pillow.

How I wished it were all just a dream.

That I'd wake up to find none of it had happened.

That two weeks later, the wedding I'd dreamed of for a decade would still go on as planned.

But the sound of a child crying upstairs and the honking cars outside told me it was all real.

After what felt like an eternity, pain shot through my foot.

When I opened my eyes, Santiago was there, holding my foot, carefully pulling out the last bits of glass and disinfecting the wound.

It had been ten full years since my parents sacrificed their lives and I lost my hearing in the fire while rescuing him.

Taking care of me seemed to have become his habit.

After he finished bandaging me up, he noticed my gaze.

Instead of asking how I got hurt, he complained with a scowl, "You know you're deaf. Why didn't you just stay home?"

Then, perhaps realizing I couldn't hear him, he frowned deeper and snarled, "This is exactly why I don't want to marry someone like you."

That sentence made my heart sink.

Back in high school, a group of kids laughed and followed me around, but I couldn't hear what they were saying.

So I just ignored them and kept walking.

But Santiago, who'd come to pick me up, rushed over and grappled with them.

When the fight was over, he held me tight in his arms, covered in bruises.

When I asked him why, he said, "They called you deaf... Susanna, you're not deaf. I'll be your ears."

He cried his eyes out that day.

It was the first time I truly realized how cruel and lonely a deaf person's world could be.

But I didn't care, because Santiago had promised to always be my ears.

Now that I had my hearing back, how come he became the one calling me deaf?

Tears welled up in my eyes.

I dug my nails deep into my palms, trying my best to hold them back.

Perhaps I'd stared at him for too long. He pursed his lips and signed quickly, "Does it hurt?"

Before I could answer, his phone buzzed.

Right in front of me, he opened a voice message from Dorothy. "Mr. Ramos, you're so bad. My legs are still weak from your kiss."

Dorothy and Santiago had gone to the same college.

After coming back from abroad, she became his executive assistant.

They often sent each other voice messages, sometimes even at midnight.

But I always trusted Santiago, naively believing they were talking about work.

"I can be worse. Wanna try?" Santiago replied, smiling the whole time.

"Who are you talking to?" I suddenly piped up, startling him.

But he quickly calmed down and signed, "A client. There's an urgent shipment."

The moment he finished signing, he sent another voice message. "I bought Susanna a set of lingerie. Looks good. I'll get you one too next time. You can wear it for me."

"Ugh, don't even think about it. I'm not wearing the same thing as that deaf girl."

I couldn't stand hearing another word of their filthy flirting, so I limped back to my room.

I held my family photo in my arms, curled up in bed, and pulled the blanket over my head, letting the overwhelming despair drown me.

Unfortunately, the door was too thin. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't block out the unbridled laughter of the two.

Each word cut deeper than a knife.

Santiago was disgusting. I didn't want him anymore.

After they chatted for a while, the sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house.

I sat up in bed.

It was midnight. I didn't need to ask where he went.

The night wind blew through the window, and the pain in my heart slowly cleared my head.

I looked at the gold-embossed wedding invitation on the nightstand. The one I had spent two weeks picking out.

I called my uncle, Aloysius. "I want to come stay with you and Grandpa and Grandma."

His voice came through the phone, full of worry. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Then he seemed to remember I couldn't hear. The line went quiet, followed by the sound of typing.

"Nothing's wrong. I just miss you all."

As I spoke, my voice started to tremble.

Back then, when Aloysius was working overseas, he brought Grandpa and Grandma with him.

After my parents' accident, he rushed back to bring me there too.

But at first, my mind wasn't right. I only wanted to stay in the little house that still carried my parents' scent.

Later, I couldn't bear to leave Santiago. Even though Grandpa and Grandma kept saying they missed me, I never agreed to go.

"I'm glad you finally figured it out, I'm really glad..."

Aloysius's voice grew emotional, then suddenly, he noticed something strange.

"Susan, your ears..."

"Yeah. I can hear again."

We talked for a few more minutes before I hung up.

Aloysius booked me a plane ticket, right on the day of the wedding.

Looking at the dozen messages he sent after that, my nose started to sting.

All these years, I stayed behind for someone like Santiago. I really was such a fool.

It wasn't until late that night that Santiago came home.

He carried the cold air with him and the smell of perfume. Then he crawled into bed.

Ever since my parents died, I had felt unsafe.

I could only fall asleep in his arms.

But because Dorothy always called him in the middle of the night, I started waking up easily, lying awake until morning.

Yet tonight, when I avoided his arm that reached out on instinct, I slept better than I had in months.

The next morning, when I woke up, I saw something in the laundry basket. It was a black lace lingerie set I had never worn.

Thinking of what they said last night, I threw it straight into the trash.

Maybe my attitude last night made him suspicious.

For the first time in half a year, Santiago actually made breakfast himself.

He put a bowl of oatmeal in front of me. I stirred it gently with my spoon but didn't put it in my mouth.

His phone kept buzzing with messages.

In one of them, Dorothy's playful voice said good morning, then complained that he hadn't been gentle last night and her back hurt. She wanted him to massage her himself.

Santiago didn't even look at me. Smiling, he pressed the voice button. "Is it that I wasn't gentle, or is someone just insatiable?"

"Last time Susanna bought me a bottle of massage cream, I'll bring it over for you."

I just stared at him. His calm, natural attitude was enough for me to imagine that this kind of thing had probably happened countless times before, right in front of me.

They kept chatting for a while.

Then Santiago finally noticed I hadn't touched my food.

"You don't like it?"

I put down my spoon. "I'm allergic to it."

His fingers paused on the screen for a few seconds, his eyes flashing with impatience.

"Such a drama queen."

Then he asked in sign language if I wanted him to make me a sandwich instead.

I shook my head.

When I passed the calendar, I saw the date we were supposed to try on wedding dresses. That was already a week ago.

Before, I couldn't understand what kind of job could be more important than getting married.

But when I looked at Dorothy's Instagram, I saw he had time to go hiking, see the ocean, and relax in hot springs with his assistant. Just not enough time to take wedding photos with me.

I calmly tore that page from the calendar and threw it in the trash.

Then I turned and went back to my room.

The sound of paper hitting the trash finally snapped him out of his daze.

He stared at the closed door, feeling like something had changed.

A strange unease made him follow me inside.

"How about I go with you to try on the wedding dress today?"

I was looking up visa procedures. When I heard him, I froze for a second, then smiled and nodded.

When Santiago was eighteen, he'd once stood with Susanna in front of a bridal shop window and said he wanted her to be his most beautiful bride.

Fifteen-year-old Susanna had smiled and nodded, too. From that day on, every birthday wish she made was the same—to marry Santiago.

This time, I told myself it would be just one last dream for the old Santiago and the old Susanna.

Inside the bridal shop, I stood in a white wedding dress. A burn scar showed on my shoulder. The staff looked troubled. "Ms. Castro, maybe try this one instead?"

It was already the fifth dress.

The scar came from the fire where I saved Santiago. It was big and hard to hide.

Guilt flashed in Santiago's eyes. His fingers moved fast on his phone before he finally turned off the screen.

He wanted to touch the scar like he had done many times before, but I quietly moved away.

His hand froze midair.

"There are a lot of people." I made an excuse.

The confusion in his eyes faded. He held my hand tight. "Are you upset? It's okay, Susan. You'll always be the most beautiful woman in my eyes."

For a second, I saw the Santiago from when we were eighteen.

But the feeling didn't last.

Our relationship was like this wedding dress, either too ugly in style or too weak to cover the scar.

Most of all, he was a cheater.

"Yeah."

I pulled my hand back and answered softly, then turned to change into another dress.

Just as I took off the gown and stood in my underwear, Santiago's phone rang outside the fitting room.

Dorothy's sweet voice came through.

She said she had menstrual cramps and felt like she was dying from the pain.

Santiago rushed to comfort her.

I quickly put on my clothes.

The next second, Santiago ignored the staff's objections and pushed open the fitting room door. "Susanna, did you die in there?! So slow!"

His finger was still pressing the voice message button. His tone suddenly turned gentle. "Don't worry, I'm coming to be with you."

I looked at him quietly. A flash of guilt crossed his eyes.

Sensing the tension, the staff laughed to ease the mood. "You're getting married soon. Maybe try talking to the bride a little more gently?"

Santiago gave a short laugh. "She's just a deaf woman. Do I really need to watch my tone?"

Perhaps that sentence not only comforted others, but also comforted himself.

The guilt in his eyes vanished right away.

He didn't care why I stopped trying on dresses.

The second he sent that voice message, he used sign language to tell me that something urgent had come up at work and he had to leave right away.

Then he left without looking back.

Dorothy's sweet voice still seemed to echo in the shop.

The staff had just witnessed a strange love triangle.

She looked at me with pity.

As I handed her the dress, she asked, "Do you want to come back another day to try again?"

Then she remembered I couldn't hear and was about to grab a pen and paper.

I smiled at her. "No need. You can keep the deposit."

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

Under her shocked gaze, I stopped the recording in my pocket, gave her a small smile, and walked away.

In the next few days, Santiago didn't come home again. He only showed up in Dorothy's Instagram posts now and then.

While packing, I accidentally found his other phone. The things inside it froze my heart all over again.

While the two of them were tangled up in their affair.

I had already gotten my visa.

Then I started packing up the house.

We had been together for ten years. There were too many memories.

Before Dorothy came back, he always begged me to pose for photos—holding the camera, coaxing me to smile.

But ever since he started working and got promoted, and after Dorothy came back.

Even when I stood right in front of him, smiling as hard as I could, he couldn't be bothered to press the shutter.

Being in front of his camera had become something only Dorothy was allowed to do.

Even during the holidays, when I asked to take a family photo with him, he called me childish and pushed my hand away.

Yet on Dorothy's Instagram, there would always be photos of the two of them cheek to cheek.

I must have been deaf and blind not to see such an obvious provocation.

After gathering thousands of photos, I burned them all. The flames shone on my face, just like the night my parents died.

Eight days before the wedding, Santiago finally came home.

He looked tired.

He must have been busy taking care of Dorothy these days.

Noticing that a lot of things in the house were missing, he froze for a moment, then turned to me. "Why does the house feel so empty?"

I didn't answer.

He looked around again, then stopped in front of the wedding countdown calendar. His expression turned playful. He stopped asking about the house and instead asked, "Did you pick your wedding dress?"

When I nodded, pride flashed across his face. "Good."

Then he turned and went into the bathroom.

I noticed the shoebox he left by the door, and I opened it.

Inside were the same pair Dorothy had just posted on Instagram that night, except hers were the women's version.

Her caption read, "Soon, we'll be running toward our happiness."

The next morning, Santiago went to work as usual.

I kept packing.

As I looked around the house I had decorated myself, now empty, I actually felt relieved.

I had cleaned myself out of his life so neatly. Maybe now, I wouldn't get in the way of their happiness.

Everything was ready.

The night before the wedding, one of Santiago's friends called me.

He said Santiago was drunk and asked me to pick him up.

The moment I pushed open the private room door, I saw Santiago lying on top of Dorothy.

When they saw me, his friends laughed. "Mr. Ramos, your little deaf girl came to pick you up."

Dorothy laughed proudly but pretended to defend me. "Come on, guys, don't make fun of someone with a disability."

Then she leaned close to his ear. "Mr. Ramos, Susanna's here."

Santiago instantly straightened up from her.

He reeked of alcohol as he staggered toward me, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me hard. "Susanna! Why didn't you die in that fire with your parents?

"Are you that pathetic? I already agreed to marry you, and you still follow me around like a dog!"

I thought that since I'd decided to leave, nothing he said or did could hurt me anymore.

But after ten years together, hearing him say he wished I were dead.

My heart started trembling uncontrollably.

His friends' faces didn't even change.

I then realized that he had said something hysterically to me countless times when I came to pick him up.

At that time, I thought he was in trouble at work, and I tried my best to comfort him.

"You're drunk."

I forced down the pain in my chest.

It was the last time we'd see each other. I wanted it to end peacefully.

But Dorothy leaned in and teased, "Mr. Ramos, are you leaving with me or with Susanna?"

Drunk, Santiago shoved me hard.

Then he wrapped his arm around Dorothy. "Of course with you. She's deaf. How could she ever compare to you?"

Everyone burst into laughter.

I fell hard against the coffee table. A sharp pain shot through my knee.

As Santiago kept insisting on going home with Dorothy, I pushed myself up and said coldly, "Then as you wish."

Limping, I walked toward the door.

Behind me, I heard Dorothy whisper, "Did someone just sign to her or something?"