When He Finally Spoke, I Was Already Gone
Agatha Christie · Completed · 9.1k Words
Introduction
To pay for his rehab, I worked four jobs at once—worked until I was coughing up blood, until I collapsed. Winter nights, Leo and I huddled under one threadbare blanket. When my son spiked a fever and I had no money for medicine, I stayed up all night pressing wet rags to his burning forehead.
Eric? His only communication was cold texts, ordering me around. When Leo reached for a hug, he'd push him away like our son didn't exist.
I endured it all. Because deep down, I believed the accident was my fault.
Until that night.
I was hauling equipment at Selena's concert—Selena, the pop star everyone knew—when a mystery guest in a mask stepped on stage. They sang together, voices blending like they'd done this a thousand times.
That voice. That lightning-shaped scar on his elbow.
My "mute" husband of three years.
I followed him backstage. Through the door, I heard Selena's laugh: "Congrats, Eric. Your mute act is almost over—you won the bet."
Three years of sacrifice.
All of it just a game. A bet with his first love.
Chapter 1
My husband Eric couldn't speak after a car accident three years ago. Three years of silence. Not one word.
To pay for his rehab, I worked four jobs at once—worked until I was coughing up blood, until I collapsed. Winter nights, Leo and I huddled under one threadbare blanket. When my son spiked a fever and I had no money for medicine, I stayed up all night pressing wet rags to his burning forehead.
Eric? His only communication was cold texts, ordering me around. When Leo reached for a hug, he'd push him away like our son didn't exist.
I endured it all. Because deep down, I believed the accident was my fault.
Until that night.
I was hauling equipment at Selena's concert—Selena, the pop star everyone knew—when a mystery guest in a mask stepped on stage. They sang together, voices blending like they'd done this a thousand times.
That voice. That lightning-shaped scar on his elbow.
My "mute" husband of three years.
I followed him backstage. Through the door, I heard Selena's laugh: "Congrats, Eric. Your mute act is almost over—you won the bet."
Three years of sacrifice.
All of it just a game. A bet with his first love.
Irene's POV
"Watch what you're DOING, for Christ's sake!"
The foreman's voice exploded backstage. I gritted my teeth and steadied the sound equipment in my arms.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry..." I kept apologizing, bending down to keep moving.
It was past 11 PM. My arms were so sore I could barely feel them anymore, but I couldn't stop—I needed every dollar.
Eric's rehab payment was due next month. Three thousand dollars. Leo's heart meds were running low again. And rent...
"Look at her, always grabbing the worst jobs."
"Her husband got messed up in that car crash, right? Supporting the whole family by herself—no wonder she works like this."
I caught the whispers around me. My eyes burned, but I picked up the pace.
Yeah, I had to work like this.
After that accident three years ago, Eric couldn't speak anymore. He used to be so proud, and now... nothing.
If I didn't push myself this hard, who would take care of us?
The concert started.
Backstage finally got quiet. I ducked behind some equipment and pulled out the dry bread I'd brought—my first meal today.
"There's a mystery guest tonight!" A few crew members were buzzing with excitement. "Nobody knows who it is!"
"Heard it's someone really close to Selena—someone BIG!"
Selena... That name twisted something in my chest.
Eric's ex. Now the hottest singer in the country. Five years back, when Eric told me about her, his eyes went distant: "She's chasing her dream. Good for her." Then he married me—the most ordinary woman you could find.
Watching Selena shine up there on stage, then thinking about Eric at home, so defeated... my chest ached.
If it wasn't for me, maybe he could've been up there too...
Guilt wrapped around me like a snake tightening its grip.
I took a shaky breath. I'd pick up two more shifts. His birthday was coming up.
"Tonight, I have someone very special joining me." Selena's voice rang out. She paused, her tone turning soft, intimate. "He means a lot to me. Tonight, we're singing a... love song. Together."
Screams erupted from the crowd.
A masked figure walked out, tall, confident. Even with the mask, you could tell—this was someone special.
The music started. Selena sang first, sweet and perfect.
Then—
"When I see you smile, the world stands still..."
The guest started singing.
Deep, smooth, perfect—that VOICE.
The bread slipped from my hands and hit the floor.
No. No way. That's impossible.
I stared at the stage, my heart hammering so hard it hurt. That voice—it was Eric's. Not similar. Not close. It WAS his voice. Three years without hearing it, but I'd never forget.
But Eric couldn't speak! He hadn't said a word in three years!
I shook my head hard. I must be exhausted. Hearing things. Except...
The guest raised his arm with the mic. The spotlight caught his sleeve as it slid up, showing a white scar on his elbow.
That scar.
From the accident three years ago. Outside of his right elbow. Shaped like lightning.
Everything stopped.
"No..." I stumbled up, nearly knocking over the equipment behind me.
"Hey! What's your problem?" The foreman shot me a look.
I didn't answer. I just ran, my mind spinning, only one thought screaming in my head: I'm wrong. I have to be wrong.
The song ended. Applause roared. The masked guest hugged Selena, then staff ushered them both away. I followed without thinking, pressed myself behind a pillar, watched them disappear into the VIP lounge.
The door wasn't fully closed.
Shaking all over, I crept closer. Through the gap, I watched him pull off the mask.
Eric.
It was really him.
His face. His eyes. That scar on his elbow—all him.
I clenched my fists so hard my nails cut into my palms.
"Congratulations, Eric." Selena's laugh was light, playful. "Your little 'mute act' is almost over, huh?"
Mute... act?
"Yeah, one more month." Eric laughed—actually LAUGHED. "Honestly? Three years of not talking almost killed me."
He was talking. Really talking.
"Making you go three years without saying a word to your wife and kid, and you actually pulled it off." Selena sounded impressed. "That woman's killing herself for you, and you didn't crack even once?"
Silence for a beat.
"You remember, don't you?" Eric's voice went quieter. "Three years ago you came back and found out I'd gotten married. Had a kid. You said I broke my promise to you. You gave me a choice—divorce and prove you're the only one I care about, or... take your bet."
"So you just... agreed?" Selena laughed again. "Three years pretending to be mute. Letting her think the crash took your voice. Watching her work herself to death to pay for your 'treatment.' Eric, that's COLD."
"Selena..."
"And the kid?" Her voice turned sharper. "You never talk to him. Doesn't that bother you? Four years old and he's never heard his dad's voice."
"I'll talk when the bet's over." Eric's tone was so casual. So easy. "Come on, it's just a bet. It's not like anything bad's gonna happen."
My whole body went numb.
Three years.
Three years of breaking my back. Three years of tears. Three years of everything I had—
All for a GAME.
"Oh, and that car accident?" Selena's voice cut through again. "That was brilliant, by the way. Where'd you even find someone to play the driver?"
The accident... that was fake too?
My mind flashed back—that car speeding toward me, Eric shoving me out of the way, hitting the ground hard. When he woke up, the doctors said his brain might've been damaged. That he might never speak again.
That he might be like this forever.
"Had to make it believable, right?" Eric actually laughed. "But it worked out. She's been eaten up with guilt these three years. Does whatever I want."
The room spun.
The accident was staged. The silence was an act.
Three years. I carried the weight of that guilt. Took his coldness. His distance. All of it.
And it was all a LIE.
I was nothing but a FOOL.
I don't remember leaving. Don't remember walking home.
At 2 AM, I pushed the door open, still in a fog.
A glass came flying at my face.
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I fall forward onto the bed then turn around to stare at him. The dark tattoos of Domonic's chiseled shoulders, quiver and and expand with the heave of his chest. His deep dimpled smile is full of arrogance as he reaches behind himself to lock the door.
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