Chapter 1What He Didn't Hear

Every time we fought, Evan would take out his hearing aids.

He wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t speak. Just a wall of impenetrable silence. Cold war.

Our friends would always try to smooth it over. “He’s just so fragile, Clara. You have to be the one to be more patient.”

“I mean, think about it. His world is so small. He only has you.”

And I believed them. I was the one who always compromised, always folded, always begged for peace.

Until I saw him with Chloe. She was his junior from grad school, also deaf since birth. I watched him coax her, make her laugh, and apologize first when they bickered. Seeing how well he knew how to love someone else was like a splash of ice water to the face. An epiphany.

That night, I told him I wanted a divorce. In response, Evan’s face went cold as he reached up and pulled out his hearing aids.

He didn’t hear me.

The next morning, he opened the bedroom door with that same old air of condescending authority.

“Alright, Clara, you can come in. I forgive you.”

But this time, there were no grateful tears from me. The apartment was empty, hollow. The only thing that answered him was a piece of paper I’d taped to the door, fluttering in the draft from an open window.

Evan, your world is small. But mine is still so big.

I won’t be walking the rest of the way with you.

* * *

The moment I pushed open the door to the party, the room went quiet.

Some people shot me nervous glances; others couldn’t meet my eyes at all.

Because Evan was busy comforting a girl.

The girl, Chloe, was deaf, just like him. She wore a pair of pale pink hearing aids. Right now, though, she had them out, her hands clamped over her ears, face crumpled on the verge of tears, refusing to listen to a word he said.

Evan saw me.

His eyes flickered toward me for a single, dismissive second before returning to her. He unwrapped a small cupcake from a paper box, his voice a low, patient murmur as he tried to coax her.

It was the first time I’d ever seen Evan like this—soothing, gentle.

Because of his deafness from a young age, his temper was a twisted, volatile thing. He was impossibly fragile, painfully sensitive. In the seven years we’d been together, that kind of tender, placating behavior was something reserved exclusively for me to perform for him.

I stood frozen by the door.

The girl seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere. She turned her head and her eyes locked with mine. The tears that had been welling up finally spilled over, streaming down her cheeks. She shoved Evan away and ran out of the room.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Evan was on his feet, chasing after her.

He paused for a fraction of a second as he passed me, finally granting me a proper look.

“Chloe’s deaf, and she doesn’t know anyone here in Boston,” he said, his voice clipped. “I’ll find her, make sure she’s safe, and then I’ll come home.”

I said nothing.

Evan was clearly agitated. “Clara, she could get hurt running off like that.” He frowned, reaching out to push me aside. “Be reasonable. If you want to start a fight, pick a better time.”

I stumbled, my back hitting the wall.

Evan didn’t even notice. He was already gone, his long strides carrying him down the hall and into the elevator without a single glance back.