Seven Years of Stolen Silence
Noah · Ongoing · 7.1k Words
Introduction
It's not that I don't have anything to say; it's just that she can hear everyone's voice—except mine, which seems to trigger her sensitivity.
I've tried everything to change my voice, even going under the knife to fix my vocal cords.
But no matter how hard I try, she just ends up in pain, covering her ears.
I've broken down countless times, feeling like I've let her down.
Until the day of our daughter's birthday.
My daughter stood at the front door, grinning, and said, "Mom, can I pretend to be voice-sensitive like you?"
Chapter 1
For seven years of marriage, I've been silent in front of my wife, Elena.
She can hear everyone's voice, but my voice gives her unbearable headaches. Doctors say it's an extremely rare case of "auditory hypersensitivity," and there's no cure.
To ease her discomfort, I've tried everything, even sneaking off to a hidden clinic in Brooklyn for a vocal cord surgery to permanently lower my pitch. But no matter what I do, as soon as I speak, she covers her ears in pain.
I've broken down countless times, drowning in self-loathing, feeling like a burden to her. So much so that when I was knocked down by a speeding e-scooter, I bit my lip hard to keep from crying out.
Today is our daughter Chloe's sixth birthday.
As I heard the door open, I hid in the kitchen, holding a cupcake with a lit candle, ready to surprise them.
They just walked in.
Chloe yanked the special noise-canceling earplugs off Elena and tossed them onto the Persian rug in the foyer.
"Mom, can I pretend to be sensitive to sound like you?" Chloe's bright voice echoed in the living room. "That way, I can talk to Dad Liam every day and ignore that annoying mute!"
My hand trembled, nearly dropping the cake.
Elena didn't get mad. Instead, she gently ruffled Chloe's golden hair, soothing her, "What if your dad finds out? Just wait a few years; when you're in high school, you can tell him you suddenly became sensitive to sound too."
"No way! He's too dumb to notice I'm faking it," Chloe laughed, showing no respect for her father.
Elena hesitated, then chuckled, "Alright, just be careful."
My heart felt like it was gripped by a cold hand. For years, I've anxiously taken Chloe to the best medical center on the Upper East Side, terrified she'd inherit Elena's "condition." Every time the specialists said her hearing was normal, I'd hide in the hallway, tearing up with relief.
Now, I realized I was the real fool.
After they changed clothes and went to their room, I numbly walked over and picked up the earplug, shoving it into my own ear.
A catchy pop song flooded my senses, the sound crisp and painfully clear.
I felt like I had plunged into an ice pit, utterly hopeless.
That evening, we celebrated at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
Halfway through the meal, Chloe suddenly covered her ears, feigning pain. "Dad, my ears hurt a bit. Can you take me to the hospital?"
Faced with her poor acting, which I already knew was a ruse, I suddenly found I didn't even have the strength to gesture in sign language.
For the first time in seven years, I spoke in front of Elena: "Okay."
Due to severe damage to my vocal cords, my voice came out hoarse and broken, like sandpaper scraping glass—so unfamiliar even to myself.
Chloe frowned, seemingly disappointed by my lack of reaction. If I didn't know the truth, I would've been tearing up, scooping her up and rushing to the ER.
But now, I just felt nauseous.
"Dad, how can you talk?" Chloe slammed her silver fork down, raising her voice to scold me. "Mom's going to get a headache again! Can't you just shut up? And your voice is really awful, did you know that?"
She paused, puffing up her cheeks. "And you're not even concerned about me! You always pretended to care about my hearing, but it was all a lie! Because of you, I don't even want to eat my steak!"
I looked at this child I had raised, finally seeing her for who she truly was.
"My voice is awful because I did it for your mom," I said coldly, "and after your birthday, you can go to the hospital with her. I'm busy."
Because of Elena's "sensitivity," I had silenced myself, suppressing my voice every day.
Seeing her in pain because of me twisted my heart like a knife.
Once the lead singer of a college rock band, I had now become a half-mute with a terrifying voice.
Elena suddenly looked up, pressing her hands to her forehead, spasming in pain.
"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. Hearing your voice makes me feel sick again..." Elena frowned tightly. "It's my fault; otherwise, you wouldn't be so unhappy. But Chloe might have inherited my condition. If she ends up as sensitive to your voice as I am, please don't be mad at her, okay?"
Chloe seemed touched by her words and hugged Elena's arm, cooing, "Mommy loves me the most."
I silently watched this mother-daughter duo perform in front of me, feeling the absurdity of it all.
"I won't get mad." I took a sip of soda, my tone eerily calm. "But we've been married for seven years, and you still haven't adjusted to my voice. Maybe we just aren't meant to be."
I set down the glass, staring into her blue eyes. "If that's the case, let's contact a lawyer for a divorce."
Elena froze, seemingly shocked that I, the usually submissive one, would dare to say those words.
But Chloe suddenly jumped up, excitedly waving her arms. "Mom, let's text Dad Liam the good news! He'll be so happy!"
Just then, Liam walked in, dressed in a trendy Burberry coat, carrying a bunch of expensive shopping bags.
Chloe couldn't contain herself and rushed over, wrapping her arms around his leg.
"Dad Liam!"
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