Chapter 1

I lost my voice to save Zoe, my childhood sweetheart. When I finally regained the ability to speak, I held back my excitement, wanting to surprise her. But just before our wedding, I caught her fooling around with a college guy in our new home.

Through the crack in the door, I saw her lying on his abs, her face flushed. She spoke about me with utter contempt.

"He's just a mute who can only communicate with his hands. How could he possibly be worthy of marrying me?"

She promised the guy, "I'm only marrying him to save face for our families. You're the one I love, and I'll never leave you."

But later, at the wedding venue, Zoe frantically searched for me, insisting on marrying me.

This time, though, I'm the one who's going to leave her behind.

I coldly shut the door, blocking out their disgusting scene.

After regaining my ability to speak, I had practiced for days, hoping to recite wedding vows at the ceremony as a surprise for Zoe. Now, it seems I'm the one who ended up looking like a fool.

Zoe had said she wanted the most unique wedding in the world, so I worked tirelessly on the venue, personally overseeing every detail, no matter how small.

Back at the wedding venue, I destroyed everything I had prepared with my own hands, then went home and fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke up, my phone was flooded with messages and missed calls from Zoe.

[Ryan, the hotel told me you trashed the wedding venue. What the hell are you doing?]

[Why aren't you answering my calls? What's with the attitude?]

[Do you even want to get married? If not, forget it!]

...

[Ryan, are you still mad at me? I really didn't mean to stand you up...]

Perhaps this is Zoe's true nature.

First, she slaps you silly, then when she's in the mood, she offers you a piece of candy to make up for it.

Keeping you firmly under her control.

Yesterday, she had asked me to meet her at a restaurant, but I waited until the place closed, and she never showed up.

She didn't answer my calls or texts. Worried something had happened to her, I searched everywhere she might have gone, only to find her in our new home, engaged in that passionate affair.

She had grown accustomed to me wagging my tail at her beck and call.

But I'm tired of it.

I looked at her messages but didn't reply. The door to my apartment opened, and Zoe rushed in, her high heels clicking on the floor.

Seeing me, she demanded, "You were home? Why didn't you reply to my messages? You made me look like an idiot sending all those texts."

Looking at her face, flushed with anger, I felt like laughing.

Was she only now experiencing the pain of sending a bunch of messages without getting a reply? I had endured this for eight years, with her disappearing without a trace.

I coldly signed, [I was asleep. Didn't hear anything.]

Zoe came forward and swatted my hands, growing angrier. "I told you not to use sign language. I can't understand it!"

In the eight years since I lost my voice, my parents and close friends had all learned to understand at least some basic signs.

But Zoe, the very person I had saved, couldn't understand. Whenever I tried to communicate with her using sign language, she would get irritated and give me the cold shoulder.

To this day, she couldn't even understand the simplest sign for "thank you."

I had no desire to sign anymore, nor did I want to tell her the truth about my restored ability to speak.

Zoe threw her bag on the table and crossed her arms. "We're getting married in a week. Why did you destroy the wedding venue?"

Simply put, I don't want to get married anymore.

I'm tired, weary, and fed up.

I typed out a message on my phone: [I just wasn't satisfied with how I had arranged it.]

Hearing this, Zoe's tense expression softened. She took my arm and leaned gently on my shoulder.

"You must be exhausted. Let's leave it to the wedding planners."

Her phone rang abruptly, and she immediately let go of me, sneaking away to answer the call.

Through the door, her words were all too clear.

"I know you miss me. I'll be with you tonight, baby."

"Him? Just thinking about sleeping next to him after we're married makes me sick. How could he compare to you?"

"The food was good last time, so I'll have him make it for you again."

The call ended with Zoe blowing a kiss, and she walked out of the room.

I couldn't help but recall Zoe's behavior these past few days. Indeed, she had been coming home very late for many nights, and I would only hear the heavy sound of the door closing in the early hours of the morning when I was half-asleep.

I may have lost my voice, but I wasn't deaf. Each time I was woken up by the noise, I found it hard to fall back asleep.

I had asked Zoe what she was so busy with, coming home so late every day.

She always brushed me off impatiently, "Work, of course. Writing proposals with clients. What else could it be?"

I would make her hangover soup, and she would mutter behind my back.

"You can't even get a proper job yourself, and now you're trying to control me."

Most of the time, I pretended not to hear.

So, her recent strange behavior was because she had found a man she cared about outside.

Abandoning me to be with someone else.

"Make some food for me to take away," she said. Then she added, "The same dishes you sent to my office before, but spicier this time."

So, the carefully prepared stomach-friendly meals I had made for her had all gone into another man's mouth.

She had a sensitive stomach, and even though I used to love spicy food, I was willing to eat bland meals with her.

But now she was thinking about someone else's tastes, using the food I made to please another man. How ridiculous.

I didn't cook for Zoe. Instead, I went to my parents' house.