Chapter 1On my birthday, I'm scrolling through Reddit, waiting for my fiancé Hudson to get off work so we can celebrate.
Then a post catches my eye:
#My boyfriend's fiancée is deaf. How do I make her leave?
The comments are going crazy.
[Boyfriend? Fiancée? Girl, you're literally a homewrecker.]
OP fires back: [They've been together 8 years, still no ring. That's not true love. How am I the homewrecker?!]
[Hold up, or maybe she's guilt-tripping him?]
OP: [Oh 100%. She went deaf "saving" him or whatever. But like that's emotional manipulation. You can't guilt someone into loving you]
[Lol test him then. Make him choose]
OP: [Bet. It's her birthday today. Let's see who he picks]
Right then, my phone buzzes.
Hudson text: [Sorry babe, stuck at the office tonight. Can't do your birthday. Tomorrow, I promise.]
---
The screen goes black.
Dinner's on the table getting cold. Right next to it—my hearing test results.
I can hear again.
I click into the girl's profile.
[What's it like dating a guy seven years older?]
Her feed's packed with photos—
Restaurants I can't afford. Vacations to Santorini. A stack of property deeds. Hermès bags and a Lambo.
The guy only shows up once—just his hand in her hair.
I stare at that hand.
Then I saw the bite mark on his index finger—I left that there last night when we fucked.
His wedding band? Gone. Replaced with a matching couple's ring.
I blink and tears hit the screen.
My throat closes up.
This can't be real.
So I test him: [I can come by. Keep you company?]
Hudson texts back instantly: [Nah, get some sleep.]
[But I want you here. It's my birthday.]
Half an hour passes. Nothing from him.
But then I'm scrolling his feed and there it is—a bar location.
I go straight there. Sure enough, he's at a table throwing dice with his crew.
Some girl's draped across his back, squeezing his cheeks, yanking the cigarette from his lips like she's a playful kid.
It hits me like a punch. I can't catch my breath.
"Behave."
Hudson grabs her throat and kisses her deep.
Everyone starts whooping.
She goes red, finally settles down.
I'm frozen in the doorway.
"Your girl's cute as hell, man."
"Bro, go easy tonight. Last time she couldn't walk after you wrecked her."
Hudson stubs out his smoke and kisses her again.
"Hear that? No getting me worked up tonight."
His buddy Jaxon laughs:
"Wedding's next month. Better get it out of your system now."
Someone else: "You really done with Sloane? Just bail, dude."
I watch Hudson's lips.
My throat burns.
"I'm not done with her," he says. "I'm just... over it."
"Sloane doesn't make a sound in bed. Like fucking a mannequin. Could you deal?"
I cover my ears without thinking.
Tears drop hard.
When I wanted to hear, I couldn't. Now I can—and I wish I couldn't.
"Dude, she went deaf for YOU. That's ice cold."
Hudson lights another cigarette.
His voice goes rough.
"That's exactly why it sucks."
"I'll owe her for the rest of my life."
"She's loved me for eight years, Jax. If I don't marry her, I'm the worst piece of shit alive."
The room starts spinning.
I grab a bottle and charge the booth.
Next second, glass explodes everywhere.
I'm shaking, tears won't stop.
Hudson signs frantically:
[Work dinner. You've got it wrong.]
[Don't cry. I'm leaving right now. Let me just say bye.]
"My girl's upset. Gotta go." Hudson grabs his jacket.
The girl yanks him back.
"What about me?"
"Is she your fiancée or your mom? So controlling. Buzzkill."
Hudson shrugs, like it's a joke. "She's just like that. Needy. Exhausting."
Those words hit me like a knife.
Everything goes white.
"Whatever. She does what I say. I'll smooth it over when I get home."
I turn and walk out.
Flag a cab outside. Don't wait for Hudson.
Somehow, my mom's voice echoes in my head.
"Sloane, you left everything behind for that man. What did you get? If you're sure he loves you, stay. Otherwise, come home. The arrangement's still there."
I wipe my face, then pull out my phone.
"Mom. My hearing's back. That match you mentioned? I'll do it."
Chapter 2
Hudson finds me down by Pier 45.
He's holding a cake.
Lights the candles. The glow flickers in his eyes, all soft and tender.
[Happy birthday, babe.]
I cried everything out already.
Just stare at him.
He's so good at this—been lying for years.
Even my last anger's gone now. Just hollow.
I sign:
[How long have we known each other?]
He answers:
[Eight years.]
[You came with me when I had nothing. Cooked in that shitty studio. Washed my work clothes. Rubbed my shoulders every night. Then the machine at the factory went haywire and you shielded me—lost your hearing saving me.]
Hudson's face softens.
[We were broke as hell but we had each other. We'd huddle in that freezing apartment with no heat. You always said you weren't hungry so I could eat. Everyone thought I was trash. Only you believed in me. Sloane, you were everything. We fought so hard to get here.]
I watch him sign those memories.
Like a dull blade carving into me.
Slow. Bloody.
So he does remember. He remembers who stood by him. Who loved him year after year.
But when he got everything, I stopped being his everything.
[We're done.]
The second I sign it, my hands drop.
Hudson freezes.
Then he laughs.
[Don't say that.]
[I didn't mean to miss tonight. Work thing. Couldn't get out of it.]
[It's not like you only get one birthday. We'll do it next time.]
That night I sleep in the guest room.
He doesn't ask.
Just keeps checking his phone. Keeps smiling.
I hand him my hearing test results.
He barely glances at it—just crumples the paper into a ball and tosses it in the trash.
I go back to my room and pull up that girl's profile.
Sure enough—she posted again.
OP: [Boyfriend got dragged away by his fiancée. Bet he's in my bed in two hours.]
"Girl, you're delusional. Side chick acting proud."
"Do you hear yourself?"
I listen at the door.
If he stays, I'll give him one more shot.
But two hours later, she posts a photo—
Guy's face buried in her neck. Both of them naked, wrapped around each other.
OP: [Told you.]
[And I'm NOT the other woman.]
Then came a voice note. I know it's Hudson's voice.
"Love you most, baby girl."
Comments flip instantly.
"Okay so they're actually in love. The fiancée's the one who won't let go. Going deaf was karma."
"OP, kick that deaf girl out."
"You two are meant to be."
That night, I don't sleep.
Cry while I rip up wedding invitations and gift boxes I spent six months on.
All the anniversary gifts. The keepsakes. Everything.
By sunrise my eyes are swollen shut.
When I leave my room, Hudson's just getting back, holding coffee.
[Went for a run. Got you breakfast.]
There's a lace thong sticking out of his jacket pocket.
Hudson sees me looking. Shoves his hand over it.
Just then, his phone rings.
Screen lights up: "Babygirl."
"Babe~ you took my underwear." The girl's voice is all sugar.
"You stuffed it in my pocket. So I kept it." Hudson turns away. "Miss you. Might take it out later and—"
"Gross!"
"Fine, I'll wash it and drop it at Columbia this afternoon."
I don't know what I feel anymore.
Rage? Disgust?
I dodge anyway when he tries to hug me, then sign:
[How was kissing Kira?]
Chapter 3
[You're spying on me?]
Hudson looks at me like I betrayed him.
He kept her hidden well.
Took me days to find her info.
Kira Ashford. Sophomore at Columbia. Dance major. Upper East Side.
[We've been together eight years. We're about to get married. And you treat me like a stranger?]
[What happened to trust?]
He's using anger to hide the guilt.
[There's no trust left,] I sign back.
The coffee cup hits the floor.
Liquid explodes across my slippers.
But Hudson walks out without looking back.
After that, two weeks. He doesn't come home once.
Kira keeps posting.
Daily updates—date nights, homemade meals he cooks for her.
In one photo, there's this stew he invented just for me. Our thing. Now it's sitting on her table.
Last year I kept asking him to cook for me.
Yet he always said he was too slammed.
Ordered takeout instead. Hired a private chef. Never once made anything himself.
This year's even worse—company's going public, he's barely home.
I'm the one cooking, bringing him dinner at the office every single night.
Guess he's got time to play chef for Kira now.
That evening my phone rings with DMV.
"Ms. Gray, your vehicle was involved in an incident."
I rush to the scene—right outside Columbia's main gate.
My blood boils.
Storefronts wrecked. My red Ferrari's completely totaled. All those little charms I collected from around the world—just a pile of broken glass now.
There's a cop talking to Kira.
"I swear I didn't mean to! I hit the gas thinking it was the brake!" Kira's full-on sobbing. "I literally just got my license like last week! I barely know how to drive! This car's way too fast—I couldn't control it!"
"Can you stop?! My boyfriend's coming! He'll pay for it all, okay?!"
That car—I bought it with my first real money.
It meant everything.
Rage floods through me. I charge over and slap her.
"Ah!"
She hits the pavement.
Her classmates are everywhere, watching this go down.
"She just hit Kira? Oh my god, she's so screwed."
"Kira's boyfriend's insane. Last time some guy whistled at her, he beat the shit out of him. Put him in the hospital and knocked his teeth out."
I jump on Kira, and start slapping her as hard as I can.
CRACK—
CRACK—
Suddenly, someone rips me off.
I slam into concrete.
Blood's pouring from my nose. My vision goes black for a second. Through the ringing in my ears, I hear cheering.
"Kira's boyfriend is so hot. Did you see that?"
"He's so protective. That's like, relationship goals."
Hudson pulls Kira up and checks her over—runs his hands over her face, her arms—making sure she's okay. Only after he's satisfied does he turn around, ready to destroy whoever touched her.
Then our eyes meet.
He goes pale.
"Babe..."
