My Husband of Seven Years Is Allergic to My Voice

I've been married for seven years, but I've never spoken in front of my husband.

He can hear everyone else's voice just fine, but whenever he hears mine, it gives him splitting headaches.

The doctor said it's a rare auditory hypersensitivity disorder that can't be cured.

To change my voice, I tried everything, even having surgery on my vocal cords.

But no matter how hard I tried, he would still clutch his ears in pain when I spoke.

I broke down crying many times, feeling like I was letting him down.

Even that time when I got hit by a car and fell to the ground in excruciating pain, I bit my lip hard and stayed silent.

Today is Walter Bell's birthday. Hearing my son Walter and husband Andrew Bell opening the door, I hid in the kitchen holding a cake, ready to surprise them.

As soon as they walked in, Walter ripped the hearing aid off Andrew's ear and threw it hard onto the floor.

"Dad, can I pretend to have sound sensitivity like you?" my son's voice rang out clear and loud. "That way I could talk to Nancy, and I wouldn't have to listen to that annoying person."

The cake in my hands nearly dropped to the floor.

Andrew gently reassured him: "What if your mom finds out? Just hold on a few more years. When you get to high school, then say you suddenly developed sound sensitivity too."

"No way, she's so dumb, she'll never figure out I'm faking it." My son laughed without restraint.

Andrew hesitated: "Well, okay then, just be careful how you do it."

My heart felt like someone was squeezing it tight.

All these years, I took my son for hearing tests every year, terrified he'd inherited Andrew's "condition."

The doctor always said his hearing was normal, and I'd secretly feel relieved.

Turns out, I was the real fool.

After they went into the room, I picked up that "hearing aid" and put it in my own ear.

Upbeat pop music came through, crystal clear and piercing.

I was completely crushed.

That evening, we ate at a restaurant we'd booked to celebrate.

Walter suddenly pretended his head hurt: "Mom, my ears kind of hurt. Can you take me to the hospital?"

Knowing the truth, I didn't want to keep up the charade of sign language anymore.

For the first time, I spoke in front of Andrew: "I know."

Hearing the hoarse voice coming from my mouth, even I found it incredibly strange.

Walter frowned, seeming to think my reaction was too calm, looking unhappy.

If I didn't know the truth, I would definitely be crying and rushing my son to the hospital right now.

But now, I just felt disgusted.

"Mom, how can you talk!" my son raised his voice. "Dad's going to have a headache again. Can't you just stay quiet? Your voice is seriously annoying!"

He paused, then said unhappily: "And now you don't even care about me anymore. You used to act like you cared about my hearing and my health, but it was all just for show! The way you're acting—I don't even feel like eating!"

I looked at my son, but felt like I was only seeing him clearly for the first time today.

"My voice sounds annoying because of your dad, doesn't it? Also, after we finish celebrating your birthday, your dad will take you to the hospital. I don't have time."

Because Andrew was so sensitive to my voice, I never dared to speak up. I kept quiet and held myself back every single day.

Seeing Andrew in pain whenever he heard my voice broke my heart. I felt so guilty that at times, I even considered having my vocal cords removed..

Back in college, I was in the school singing club, but now I can only make ugly sounds.

Andrew suddenly looked up, pressing his hands to his ears like he was in pain. He rubbed his forehead and said, struggling, "Honey, I'm sorry, but hearing your voice is making me feel awful again. This is all my fault. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be so unhappy. But our son might have inherited this from me. If he ever reacts to your voice the way I do, please don't be angry with him."

Walter seemed moved by this and actually hugged his arm, saying, "Dad, thank you for standing up for me."

Watching the two of them put on this act, I suddenly found it ridiculous.

"I won't be angry," I said calmly. "But after seven years of marriage, you still can't stand my voice. Maybe we were never meant to be together in the first place."

"So let's get divorced."

Andrew froze, but my son Walter suddenly got excited and started jumping around, saying, "Dad, let's tell Nancy the good news now! She'll be happy too!"

Just then, my stepsister Nancy walked over carrying a gift.

Walter couldn't contain himself and ran to hug her.

"Mommy!"