Chapter 3No Longer Your Silent Knight

That night, I stayed awake staring at the ceiling, wondering if I was the villain in someone else’s movie.

Maybe Noah really did love the dark, and I had forced him into the sun. Maybe he truly preferred being alone, and I was just an intruder he didn't know how to evict.

But Noah was brilliant. He would have been fine without me. I was just bossy, selfish, and loud. I was a nuisance he had been too polite to get rid of.

I lay there until the sky turned a bruised purple and the rain started to knock against my window. The chill finally snapped me back to reality.

I realized with a jolt that today was Noah’s appointment at the Speech Rehabilitation Center.

His mutism wasn't permanent. It was a "psychological block," the doctors said. A "heart sickness." He hadn't spoken a word since the accident, but his vocal cords were fine.

I was the one who had dragged him to every session.

“Go,” I used to plead. “I’ll go to those boring math competitions with you if you just go. I really want to hear your voice, Noah. You’re too handsome to be silent.”

Once, when I had a high fever and was stuck in the school infirmary, Noah stayed by my side. He held the IV tube to keep the fluid from being too cold against my skin.

“Why aren't you at rehab?” I whispered.

He didn't sign. He took my hand and traced three letters into my palm: Y-O-U.

Then he signed: “I want you to be the first person to hear me speak.”

Thinking about that made me bolt upright. My heart ached with a mix of desperation and hope. He’s waiting for me, I thought. He must be.

I grabbed my umbrella and ran.

The asphalt was slick and black, reflecting the streetlights. I stood outside the rehab center, the wind biting at my neck, scanning the entrance.

Then I saw them.

Serena was standing close to him, her fingers gently tracing the line of Noah’s throat.