Chapter 2The Voiceless Echo

I gripped the crumpled note in my pocket, my fingertips digging into my palm.

I had never been the type of girl to swallow my pride and suffer in silence. I immediately called Ethan over, demanding an explanation.

A million questions bottlenecked in my throat. The words "What the hell does this note to Chloe mean?!" were literally on the tip of my tongue.

But Ethan paused. His long, elegant fingers lifted slightly, signing a simple question. His eyes dropped to the Band-Aid on my finger, his gaze impossibly earnest and soft:

"Does your hand still hurt?"

I swatted his hand away. My tone was sharp, fueled by the bitter, stinging betrayal bubbling up in my chest:

"If you think I'm annoying, you can just say it to my face."

"There's no need to sneak around behind my back."

Ethan's eyes shifted, landing on the crumpled piece of paper in my hand.

There was no panic in his eyes. Instead, a wave of profound exhaustion washed over his face—the exact expression of a man who fully anticipated I would throw a tantrum over something "trivial."

"I didn't mean it like that," he signed.

"But, Maya... don't you think we're a little too close?"

Ethan hesitated, as if the next words were agonizingly difficult to force out, unsure if he should even say them.

"Say it. If you don't tell her, how is she supposed to fix her behavior? If she's doing something wrong, she needs to change—"

A bright, clear voice sliced into the conversation. I had no idea when Chloe had walked up, but she gently nudged Ethan's shoulder, a gesture dripping with supportive encouragement.

There it was again. That exact phrasing.

Every instinct in my body screamed in discomfort.

I had always been incredibly stubborn. Once I committed to something, I never backed down easily.

Just like when I first met Ethan. An accident had stripped him of his voice, leaving him withdrawn, depressed, and completely isolated. When kids bullied him at school, he never fought back.

I couldn't stand it. Relying on the fact that I was a head taller than the other kids, I got into a brutal fistfight with a group of neighborhood boys, making them swear they would never lay a hand on Ethan again.

Even after that, Ethan remained a passive, silent punching bag, letting people walk all over him. It drove me insane.

So, when the teacher announced seating reassignments and asked for Ethan's preference, he just sat there in silence, holding up a single finger.

I instantly threw my hand in the air: "Mr. Davis! Ethan says he absolutely cannot endure being separated from me for even a second. We're going to be desk partners for the rest of our lives."

During AP Calc, the department head wrote a brutally difficult equation on the board and asked if anyone could solve it.

I looked down at Ethan's scratch paper, completely filled with complex formulas. Confused as to why he always turned in blank tests, I happily raised my hand: "Mr. Davis! Ethan has three different ways to solve this!"

...

Eventually, Ethan wasn't sitting next to the trash can in the back corner anymore. Between classes, people actually started walking up to his desk to ask him for help with homework.

The department head recommended him for the National Math Olympiad. The day he was accepted into the elite magnet high school via their specialized STEM track, I was genuinely thrilled for him.

But that day, with red-rimmed eyes, he held it in all day before quietly sliding a note onto my desk.

"I'll tutor you. Let's get into the magnet school together, okay?"

His face was flushed bright red, but he stared at me with stubborn, unwavering intensity.

That was the first time my heart ever skipped a beat for him. I honestly believed our feelings were mutual.

But that delusion only lasted until Chloe transferred to our school.

One afternoon, I was nagging Ethan to come with me to see a movie screening downtown.

He offered a helpless, apologetic smile and signed that he wanted to go to the library to organize his notes.

I defaulted to my usual, playful whining: "Oh~ so you and I are on the exact same wavelength! You want to go see Interstellar too, right?!"

This was our standard dynamic. It was completely normal to me; I never thought anything of it.

But Chloe's brow furrowed. Her gaze locked onto me, her tone laced with serious, genuine disapproval:

"Can you please respect him a little bit? He clearly signed that he wanted to go to the library. Why do you constantly, intentionally ignore what he actually wants?"

The air in the room went dead silent.

I was completely bewildered.

Me?

Bullying Ethan?

But the most devastating part was that Ethan seemed to be violently awakened by her words. He looked at Chloe, gave a firm nod, and signed "Thank you" to her.

In that single instant, the unspoken understanding I thought we shared—the intimate, playful bond I thought we had built—was completely shattered.

Suddenly, Chloe was the protagonist in a rescue fantasy. She was the one teaching Ethan how to establish boundaries, how to advocate for himself, how to say no.

Just like right now.

Under Chloe's watchful, encouraging gaze, Ethan seemed to muster every ounce of courage he possessed to slowly, deliberately sign to me:

"I think... I need some space."