Chapter 3The Voiceless Echo

After that day.

I spent hours agonizing over whether I was actually the villain in his story.

Maybe Ethan really did like the color black. I was just the one who decided he needed to be in the sun, refusing to let him hide in his room all day.

Maybe he actually preferred being entirely alone. I was just the one who arrogantly forced my way into his life, assuming he needed me when he really didn't.

No. Ethan was a genius.

Even without me, he probably would have eventually become the brilliant, healthy, confident person he was today.

Looking at it through that lens, I was nothing but a domineering, selfish, irrational nuisance who ruined his peace and quiet.

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling until the sky grew dark, and a steady, freezing rain began to fall.

The damp, misty wind blew through my open window, the icy droplets hitting my face and bringing me back to reality.

It suddenly hit me—today was the day of Ethan's monthly speech therapy appointment.

Ethan's inability to speak wasn't permanent. The trauma of the accident had triggered a psychosomatic block.

His parents had taken him to a dozen specialists. Finally, an older, distinguished neurologist just shook his head and said, "Psychological wounds are the hardest to heal."

He explained that Ethan's vocal cords were perfectly healthy. The trauma simply made him refuse to speak.

He recommended an elite speech therapy clinic downtown, suggesting monthly sessions to break the psychological barrier.

At first, Ethan absolutely refused to go. He signed that he hated talking to strangers.

I nagged him relentlessly, negotiating terms.

"Just go! Please? I promise I'll sit through every single one of your boring math lectures if you go."

"I really, really want to hear what your voice sounds like."

"You're so good-looking, your voice is probably amazing. Please~"

One time, I caught a terrible flu and passed out in a bed at the campus clinic.

When I woke up, Ethan was sitting beside me. He was using his hands to warm the freezing IV tube, staring at me with a face full of absolute panic.

I asked him why he wasn't at his therapy appointment.

He shook his head, and traced three letters onto the palm of my hand.

I. M. Y. (I miss you.)

His face flushed deep red as he signed to me:

I am going to make absolutely sure you are the first person to ever hear my voice.

Thinking about that, I couldn't stay in bed another second.

A mix of anxiety and a sweet, desperate hope flooded my chest:

Ethan is definitely waiting for me.

...

The wet asphalt reflected the glaring streetlights. The damp air felt like breathing through a wet sponge.

I stood under an umbrella outside his apartment building. The freezing rain slid down my collar, sending a violent shiver down my spine.

The next second.

I saw Chloe touching Ethan's throat.