Chapter 1

I stared at Caleb Brandon's moving lips, somewhat confused about what he was saying.

Was it "Stop pretending" or "Don't worry"?

Judging by his displeased expression, it was probably the former.

"What are you saying?"

I handed him the writing tablet, signaling him to write it down.

After all, he neither knew nor was willing to learn sign language for me.

He scribbled a few words.

"Can you turn off that awful music?"

"Are you really deaf or just pretending?"

I turned off the speakers.

Playing a vinyl record every morning had become a habit of mine.

Even though I could no longer hear it, I still held onto the ritual.

I didn't expect it would bother him.

As the music faded, I turned to gaze at Caleb.

"Do you need me to remind you how I became deaf?"

His whole body stiffened, and it felt as though the air froze.

...

Three months ago, Caleb's childhood friend Maryam Paxton participated in a talent competition show.

Caleb had always taken great care of her, but I didn't mind.

Caleb and I had been in love for ten years, celebrated by everyone as the perfect couple.

He respected me, cherished me, and always sought my opinion on everything.

Just like this time, over dinner, he asked gently,

"Darling, can you do me a favor?"

"Could you compose a song for Maryam? Each contestant has to write a song, and you know Maryam… she's a bit clueless when it comes to these things."

Maryam looked at me with hopeful eyes.

She spoke in a soft, pleading tone,

"Mallory, you're the best to me. I really want to debut."

Under their expectant gazes, I rejected them firmly and decisively.

"No."

Every piece of music is the embodiment of a composer's soul. It should be given to someone who can truly sing, not someone like Maryam Paxton, who doesn't even understand sheet music and has such a flat, uninspired voice.

Caleb Brandon's expression darkened.

Maryam lowered her head, tears dripping into her bowl.

Realizing my refusal was too harsh, I added,

"My style doesn't suit Maryam. How about this—I can recommend a friend whose compositions might be better suited for young girls."

Caleb's expression softened slightly, and he stood up to serve me a bowl of soup.

But Maryam burst into louder sobs.

"Mallory, even if you're a top composer, you can't humiliate me like this!"

"All this talk about style not fitting—it's just because you think I'm not good enough, isn't it?"

With that, she flipped the dining table over and ran out, crying.

Hot soup spilled onto my hand, and I hissed in pain.

I was about to ask Caleb to call a doctor,

but he had already rushed out after Maryam.

His voice was icy, "You better hope Maryam is okay!"

The burn on my hand was still steaming, but my heart was growing colder by the second.

Caleb didn't come home for half a month.

The next time I saw him, it was on a stormy night.

He was drenched from head to toe, rainwater dripping from his bangs onto the carpet.

His entire face was shrouded in shadows, making it impossible to read his emotions.

I hurried to grab a towel to dry him off.

"Why are you in this state? Here, let me—"

Before I could finish, he grabbed my wrist and violently threw me to the ground.

My head struck the shoe cabinet, and I winced, clutching my head in pain.

When I looked up, his eyes were cold and devoid of any warmth.

Slaps rained down on me.

"Smack!"

My head snapped to the side, and a piercing ringing filled my ears.

He had struck with full force.

A metallic taste rose in my throat as the ringing grew louder.

"Why…"

He stomped on my wrist with his leather shoe.

"Ah—!"

The sole pressed down mercilessly on my delicate, fragile wrist.

The sound of tendons snapping echoed faintly in the room.

I knew it. Those hands, once called the most precious in the world, were ruined.

In this lifetime, I would never play another instrument again.

He lit a cigarette, his face flickering between light and shadow.

"All because you refused to compose for Maryam, she got eliminated and jumped into the lake!"

"When they pulled her out, she was still pleading with me not to blame you, saying it wasn't your fault!"

"Mallory Brooks, how can you be so cruel?"

"If only you had agreed to compose for Maryam earlier, let her rise to fame in a single stroke, I wouldn't have had to go this far… you—"

The pain in my ears grew sharper and sharper until—

"Boom."

I looked up in panic, only to see his lips moving up and down.

The insults, the sound of the storm, even my own heartbeat—all of it vanished.

I couldn't hear anything anymore.

In an instant, my world turned completely silent.

Chapter 2

Caleb Brandon had beaten me to the brink of death.

He summoned every doctor in the city, but none could change the diagnosis of severe hearing loss.

Caleb refused to believe it.

With tears streaming down his face, he called my name over and over again.

"Mallory… Mallory… this can't be real…"

But I remained unmoved.

The young master who had never lifted a finger in his life stayed by my bedside day and night, tirelessly caring for me without taking a single step away.

I finally spoke, saying my first words, "Caleb Brandon, thanks to you, I will never compose for anyone again."

A composer who lost her hearing…

And her heart.

Caleb seemed struck by some devastating blow.

He fell to his knees, clutching my hand, tears streaming down his face, saying something.

Was it an apology?

Unfortunately, I couldn't hear it.

On the day of my discharge, he didn't come to pick me up.

Maryam Paxton sent me a message, as if to gloat, "Mallory, I heard you've gone deaf. I feel so bad for you."

"You can't hear my beautiful singing at the finals, but that's okay. Caleb will listen on your behalf."

"So what if I didn't have your composition? I still debuted as the center, didn't I?"

I replied with just two words.

"Congratulations."

I had long known that with Caleb Brandon's methods, he would never let Maryam Paxton fail.

In this industry, there is no such thing as absolute fairness.

Caleb threw money at the problem, forcing Maryam, who was utterly incompetent at both singing and dancing, into a debut position.

He fulfilled her dreams.

But he destroyed me.

I had the driver take me to the cemetery.

Before losing my hearing, I had written five compositions.

I had planned to save them for the most important moments of my life, to give them to those I cherished most in my final moments.

But now, my heart was utterly shattered—I was no different from the dead.

I stood silently before my parents' graves,

watching as a reel of my master tape burned to ashes.

This piece was my first composition.

It was also my parents' favorite when they were alive.

Now, only four remain.

I took out another tape and threw it into the fire.

This composition had already been made public.

The piece was simple, yet it unconsciously brought a smile to one's face.

It mirrored the serene and peaceful life I once led.

I had intended for it to accompany every significant moment in my life.

It became the theme song for my wedding to Caleb.

But as soon as the music began to play in the chapel, Caleb abandoned me and left in a panic.

I stood there alone, holding the ring, utterly lost,

as the guests' curious, scornful, and gossiping eyes bore into me.

Why?

Because Maryam had sprained her ankle while rehearsing her dance.

He left me behind without hesitation to tend to her.

Afterward, he apologized profusely.

"Maryam is pitiful. She only has me as her brother. I acted rashly and failed to consider your feelings."

"Mallory, hit me. Hit me, and I might feel a little better inside."

He grabbed my hand and tried to slap himself with it.

But my heart ached, and I pulled my hand away.

"It's okay. Your sister is my sister too."

...

This piece was supposed to accompany other milestones—our child's birth, our wedding anniversaries,

even my funeral.

But now, it no longer held any meaning.

The flames danced brightly.

Now, only three compositions remain.

I made my way to Kevin Harrison's company.

When Kevin Harrison saw me, his face lit up with delight.

"Mallory, you're here."

"Kevin, I… I can't hear anymore. If you have something to say, just type it out."

He froze in place, standing there for what felt like an eternity before shakily pulling out his phone.

"What happened?"

I gave a nonchalant smile.

"Caleb Brandon hit me."

His eyes reddened, and without bothering to type a response, he turned to rush out the door.

I could see his lips moving—likely saying he was going to confront Caleb for revenge.

After all, in this world, the only person who truly cared about me was him.

I grabbed his arm, shaking my head with a smile.

"Kevin, don't act on impulse. What happens between Caleb and me, I'll handle myself."

He lifted his trembling hand and cupped my face, his fingers shaking.

I pulled out a master tape and handed it to him with a smile.

"Release this song. I composed it, you write the lyrics. This one will definitely be a hit."

"You've always been a little short on luck, but this time, it's going to happen."

"It's just a pity… I'll never get to hear your voice again."

"What are you doing?"

Kevin shielded me behind him as I turned to look.

Chapter 3

Caleb Brandon was striding toward us, fury blazing in his eyes.

Maryam Paxton stood nearby, covering her mouth with a smug, gleeful expression.

The bodyguards pinned Kevin down.

Caleb grabbed my wrist and dragged me home.

The ligament tore again, and the pain made me furrow my brows tightly.

I tried to explain.

"Kevin and I are innocent. I just couldn't bear to see him struggle in mediocrity any longer—I wanted to help him."

"After all, when I was hit by that car, it was Kevin who saved me and took care of me for three days and nights."

"If it weren't for him, I might not even be alive now."

Caleb let out a cold laugh and started speaking in a torrent of words.

When he noticed my blank, uncomprehending expression, he suddenly realized that I couldn't hear him.

So, he quickly typed on his phone.

"Aren't you married? Why do you need another man to take care of you?"

"You just enjoy being surrounded by men, don't you? You're a slut."

He shoved the phone in front of me. Then his movements froze, and an awkward expression spread across his face.

It was clear he had just remembered that while I was in the hospital, he was vacationing in the Southern Hemisphere with Maryam, gathering inspiration.

Kevin Harrison used my phone to call Caleb Brandon thirty times in a row, but every call was rejected.

The last call was answered by Maryam Paxton.

She said, "Mallory, stop calling. Caleb thinks it's annoying."

Kevin understood immediately and became even more attentive to me.

He was a good person, but luck had never been on his side.

Despite his immense talent, he had always been suppressed.

This song, tailored perfectly to market trends, was my way of repaying him before I left.

Now, I only had two compositions left in my hands.

Caleb hurriedly took back his phone.

"I'm sorry, Mallory. I didn't mean to call you that. I just care about you so much—it clouded my judgment."

"You didn't see those two words, right?"

I saw them.

I may be deaf, but I'm not blind.

Those words—slut—were written by the man I loved so deeply.

But I said nothing.

The ridicule in my eyes stung Caleb deeply.

"Even so, you can't be so close to another man!"

With a flick of his sleeves, he stormed out in anger.

I thought he wouldn't come back.

But he did.

And he brought Maryam with him.

Behind me, they held each other tightly and kissed passionately.

Maryam tilted her head back and screamed in delight, "Caleb, doing this right next to Mallory—it's so thrilling!"

Caleb responded, fully absorbed in the moment.

"She refuses to see my sincerity and insists on being close to other men."

I sat at the edge of the bed, biting my lip to stop my tears from falling.

I couldn't hear their pleasure-filled voices.

But...

The massive window before me clearly reflected their overlapping and entwined silhouettes.

He was doing it on purpose—making sure I saw everything.

I couldn't hold it in any longer.

A tear slipped down my cheek, soaking into my clothes.

I didn't dare turn around and just stared blankly at the window.

Strange. Am I not deaf?

So why can I still hear the sound of my heart shattering into pieces?

A brand reached out for an interview and invited me to attend a gala.

Since losing my hearing, every brand I was signed with terminated their contracts, and the artists I collaborated with all left without a word.

This was the first time someone had extended an olive branch.

Coincidentally, I desperately needed this opportunity to appear in front of my fans.

To show them I was doing fine, to reassure them not to worry.

When I arrived at the venue, I realized this gala was nothing more than an ambush.

The music industry wanted to squeeze out the last bit of value from me to aid in their revival.

Flashing cameras, live-streaming devices thrust into my face, and malicious reporters swarmed around me, suffocating me.

"Ms. Brooks, you rose to fame for your perfect pitch and were hailed as a once-in-a-generation composer. How does it feel to fall from heaven to hell overnight?"

"We've heard your husband has been getting close to the rising star Maryam Paxton. Is it because you've gone deaf and he's grown tired of you?"

"That can't be. If I were Mr. Brandon, I would have dumped her the day she lost her hearing. He's too softhearted."

"Oh my God, she's really deaf! We're shouting so loudly, and she doesn't even react."

"Really? Then let me just say it: Mallory Brooks, your compositions were just average, and you're not as good-looking as Maryam. Caleb's betrayal was only a matter of time!"

…