Chapter 1

The massive chandelier comes crashing down on me at my wedding.

My fiancé, Ethan Lawson, who hasn't spoken a word in eight years, suddenly screams.

"Sophie, watch out—"

Sophie. The bridesmaid.

Eight years together, and Ethan Lawson has never said a word to me.

He saw his parents get murdered when he was twenty.

The trauma left him unable to speak. And under stress, he would freeze completely.

One time, I fell into the pool.

Ethan froze in place, watching me nearly drown. He didn't do a thing.

Another time, the stove caught fire while I was cooking.

He just stood there, staring blankly as the flames caught on my clothes. He didn't even think to grab the fire extinguisher.

Our friends all said he was in bad shape. That I should be more patient.

And I did. I stayed by his side through every step of his recovery. I never complained.

But today, I'm the one who's hurt and bleeding. He ignores me and rushes straight to Sophie Dalton.

He pulls her into his arms, holding her like she's the only person in the room.

Eight years of silence, and I finally hear his voice.

"Sophie, don't be scared. I'm here…"

That's when it hits me.

I was never the one meant to save him.

…

Ethan leaves. Carries Sophie out of the venue without a backward glance. Sophie has a few scratches.

I'm still bleeding.

The whole place is chaos. The wedding is canceled.

He doesn't come home until the next afternoon, looking completely drained.

He walks in silent, like always. Not a word.

As if hearing him speak yesterday was something I imagined.

"Ethan, why didn't you answer any of my messages?"

I step in front of him. "I sent you dozens of texts. You walked out on me and a room full of guests. Did it even cross your mind that yesterday was supposed to be our wedding?"

He looks up at me, calm, and signs:

[It happened fast. Sophie was hurt. She needed me at the hospital.]

"She needed you?"

I almost laugh. "You've met Sophie, what, a handful of times? She gets a scratch, and suddenly you're her personal nurse?"

He frowns, visibly annoyed, and signs:

[Sophie is your coworker. She got hurt at our wedding. I owe her that.]

"But I got hurt too. The chandelier landed on my shoulder. I was bleeding everywhere, and you didn't even look at me—"

His signs are fast and aggressive.

[You know I have a freeze response. When something triggers me, I shut down. You knew about this before we got together. Why are you throwing it in my face now?]

And just like that, all my hurt gets shoved right back down my throat.

Yes. I know about his condition.

But yesterday, when the chandelier came down, he didn't freeze at all. He lunged for Sophie without hesitation.

His condition shuts him down when I'm the one in danger. But with her, he's perfectly fine.

Before I can say anything, Ethan raises his hands again.

[You heard me speak yesterday, right?]

He pauses, thinking.

[My therapist says Sophie is what finally got me talking. He wants me to move in with her. More time around her could help speed up my recovery.]

I stare at him.

He broke his eight-year silence for another woman. That alone is insane enough.

And now they're going to live together.

Ethan doesn't seem to notice my anger.

His hands keep moving, calm, like he's explaining something obvious:

[It's only for treatment. Nothing will happen between us. We'll postpone the wedding. Once my condition is fully resolved, we'll reschedule.]

There won't be a wedding.

My parents never approved of Ethan in the first place.

I made them a promise. If his mutism wasn't cured within ten years, I'd come home and accept whatever match they arranged for me.

Now his condition is finally improving.

But I know it's time for me to go.