Chapter 3

Doubt twisted in my chest like a thorn I couldn’t dislodge.

Mariah had claimed she spent the last ten years abroad recovering, all while claiming she never stopped caring about Dalton. But how could she not know about his accident? About the year he completely lost his hearing?!

That year broke him.

He spiraled—vanished from his perfect life, abandoned everything. And that’s when I found him, sitting alone in the corner of a dingy arcade, trying to drown out the silence with flashing lights and crashing sounds he couldn’t even hear.

I remembered walking up to him, cocky and bold, and teasing, "I basically saved your life. The least you could do is split your game tokens with me."

He didn’t even blink. His expression screamed and got lost.

So I doubled down. "What, deaf or something? I’m talking to you, cheapskate!"

And that’s when he punched me.

Not metaphorically. Not lightly. No—Dalton socked me straight in the face.

We got to know each other through fists. Turns out the guy was a street brawler in a designer jacket—skilled enough that even local thugs avoided him. But I wasn’t a pushover either.

They used to call me the Little Devil of Ashland Street. I pinned him down, stole all his tokens, and forced him to play King of Fighters with me until the sun dipped below the skyline.

Right as my mom called me home for dinner, he finally spoke. His first words all afternoon.

"I can’t hear," he muttered, looking away. "And I don’t have any money."

God, I still remember the shame that slapped me awake in the middle of the night. I’d screamed at a deaf guy and beat him in a street fight.

I apologized. Profusely. Then I invited him to stay with us for a week.

When the Wrenley family finally tracked him down and took him home, he didn’t tell them everything. But he asked me to be his “little ears.” So I transferred to school. Sat next to him in every class. Helped him navigate a world that never bothered to slow down.

Mom was thrilled. “Great! One less mouth to feed and tuition paid!” she’d joked, totally unaware of the storm brewing under the surface.

His hearing came back eventually. But he never forgot what it was like. That’s why, when no one wanted the hearing impairment center project, he took it. Said it mattered. Said we could make a difference.

But now…

Now he said, “Mariah’s right. There’s no point wasting resources on projects that don’t turn a profit.”

And just like that, he fed the blueprints I spent six months perfecting—every late night, every revision—into the shredder.

I couldn’t stop the cold laugh that slipped past my lips.

“Well,” I said, voice like steel. “Then I guess this is goodbye.”

I turned on my heel and walked out, not bothering to look back.

Dalton chased after me. “Don’t make a scene,” he hissed. “I told you—Mariah can’t handle stress. Her heart condition—”

I spun around, my eyes narrowing.

“I’m sick too, Dalton,” I snapped. “I’ve got a mental illness, and right now? If you keep touching me, I swear to God, it won’t be a crime if I beat you to death.”

He looked stunned but didn’t let go.

“There’s a limit to how jealous and dramatic you can be,” he growled. “Mariah and I—our families go way back. We practically grew up together—”

“Oh, spare me,” I cut in, voice laced with venom. “You’ve been in love since you were kids, your parents probably arranged your futures in a nursery. She went abroad to recover, you waited with a vow of eternal loyalty, and now that she’s back, you’re playing house again. Did I miss anything?”

His jaw clenched. The guilt and surprise that flickered across his face told me everything I needed to know.

Bullseye.

I let out a hollow laugh and flagged down the nearest taxi.

This time, he didn’t stop me.