Chapter 1The Secret Inside His Hearing Aid

My husband, Cameron Miller, had a strange, specific ritual.

Every time we made love, he would first take off his hearing aids.

He said he needed to see my expression clearly. To watch the truth in my eyes.

And then, just as he was about to come, he would always slip them back on.

He said he needed to hear my voice clearly. To listen to the confession of my pleasure.

For seven years, this was our nightly script.

Everyone called us the perfect couple, a seven-year marriage where the passion only deepened.

On the day of our seventh anniversary, I secretly took that old hearing aid to a specialist.

I wanted to have an identical one custom-made—a surprise gift for him.

The doctor, a kind older man, informed me.

“Mrs. Miller, this old unit has a stored voice memo. Would you like me to sync it to the new device?”

Before I could answer, the doctor played the recording for me right there.

The sound instantly plunged me into an ice-cold horror.

I recognized it immediately: The voice of The Myth he worshiped—his unattainable first love.

She was trembling, breathless, whispering at the height of her passion:

“Cam, I love you…”

…

* * *

The moment I heard that voice memo, the blood in my veins seemed to turn to solid stone.

The doctor was fumbling with apologies.

“I am so sorry, Mrs. Miller, I didn’t realize it was a… I’ll turn it off immediately!”

But the woman’s breathless moans and declaration of love were already looping in my brain, a permanent, agonizing echo.

I stumbled out of the clinic, numb and disoriented.

The next second, my phone vibrated. It was Cam.

I swiped to answer, and his voice, that familiar blend of possessive affection and urgent concern, came through.

“Alisa, where did you disappear to? I came home and didn’t see you. You scared the hell out of me.”

I opened my mouth, but my throat was too dry to form a sound.

He instantly noticed my silence.

“Why aren’t you talking? Your voice sounds tight. Who upset you? Tell me. If the sky falls, your husband is holding it up.”

The sky falling?

My sky had already collapsed.

And the man who pushed it over was him.

“I’m fine,”

It took all the strength I had to squeeze the words out. “Just running an errand. I’m heading back now.”

“Running what errand? The sun is blazing out there, you’ll burn. Stay put, I’m coming to get you.”

He hung up.

In less than ten minutes, his car pulled up beside me.

Cam rushed out, opened the passenger door, and pulled me into a fierce hug, his hand immediately checking my forehead.

“No fever, but why is your face so pale? Are you feeling unwell?”

He retrieved an elegant paper bag from the passenger seat, presenting it to me with a proprietary grin, like a boy showing off a prized possession.

“Look, that triple-layer mousse cake you mentioned yesterday. I drove all the way to the West Side for it.”

I stared at the warmth in his eyes, at the open, undeniable love and worry reflected there, and a terrible, tight knot formed in my chest.

Seven years.

This man had used this flawless, relentless tenderness to wrap me up in a cocoon of my own foolish, self-satisfied belief.

Back at home, the dining table was a vision of celebration: flickering candlelight and a perfectly decanted bottle of Cabernet. Our seventh anniversary.

The atmosphere was strangely suffocating. I couldn't taste the food. Cam tried to speak several times, only to be shut down by my cold, rigid expression.

After dinner, he came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. His warm breath tickled my ear.

“Alisa, did I mess up? Did I do something to make you angry?”

I remained silent.

He sighed, turned me around, cupped my face, and kissed my forehead.

“If you’re unhappy, I’ll clear my schedule tomorrow. We can fly to the coast and relax, just the two of us. How does that sound?”

“You know, in my heart, nothing is more important than you.”

Looking into his earnest eyes, I felt a flicker of doubt. My resolve was wavering.

Sensing the shift, Cam walked to the bedside table and picked up the old hearing aid.

Just like he had on over two thousand nights before.

As he was about to put it in, I grabbed his hand abruptly.

“Cam,”

I forced a smile, looking him straight in the eye. “That thing is so old, it’s about to break down. Let’s get you the new version I ordered, okay? Let me just throw this old one out.”

Cam’s movement froze. The gentle smile on his face wavered, then solidified into an expressionless mask.

He quickly recovered, smoothly withdrawing his hand. His tone was firm but soothing.

“Why the sudden change? It’s been this way for seven years, Alisa.”

He held the hearing aid, stroking it as if it were a rare, priceless artifact.

“You don’t understand, Alisa. This isn’t just a piece of technology. It’s been with us since the beginning, since that awful rental apartment. It’s a testament to everything we’ve built.”

A testament?

A testament to seven years of lies and manipulation?

A sudden, white-hot fury flared up inside me. I snatched the device from his grasp.

“I am the person who stood by you! Cam, your focus should be on me, not on a cold, inanimate machine!”

“I said, I’m throwing it away!”

Clutching the hearing aid, I spun around, heading for the trash bin.

“Don’t you dare!”

Cam’s face completely darkened. For the first time, those eyes that were always filled with soft affection now held a sharp, terrifying intensity.

He lunged forward, grabbing the hearing aid out of my hand.

He clenched it tightly in his palm, guarding it like a sacred, irreplaceable treasure.

His voice was a low, unprecedented warning, edged with ice.

“Alisa Wells. Do not touch that again!”

Then, without so much as a glance at me, he spun on his heel and strode out of the bedroom, slamming the door shut with a violent BANG.

I stumbled backward from the force of his exit, collapsing onto the floor. I sat there, staring at the closed door, cold to the bone.

In seven years, this was a first.

He had left me alone.