The Voice He Loved, The Face He Forgot

Marrying the deaf girl? Its just a debt I have to pay. Harper is still the one I love.

The day my hearing came back. That was supposed to be the surprise.

Instead, I froze outside the VIP booth and heard my fiancs voice cut through the heavy bass. Cold. Detached.

I turned around. The bag of roasted chestnuts in my handthe ones Id spent an hour peeling until my fingertips were rawtightened in my grip.

Tristan.

You have no idea.

That photo you keep hidden in your wallet? The white moonlight you worship like a religion?

Its a picture of me as a child.

And that love of your life youre pining for? Shes nothing but a fraud wearing my face.

Chapter 1

Gratitude.

Thats it. Thats the only reason the ring is on my finger.

I never wanted to trap him with a debt he feels obligated to pay. I never wanted to be a cage.

I stood in the doorway, unmoving. Inside, Tristan put his fist to his chin and coughed lightlya sharp, deliberate sound.

Around him, his friends immediately crushed their cigarettes into crystal ashtrays. Someone moved to crack a window. The air cleared.

Come in, Tristan signed. His movements were stiff. Mechanical. Why aren't you wearing your hearing aids?

When the doctors told us my hearing loss might be permanent, Tristan stayed up all night with worry, and later, he specifically went to learn sign language. He tried.

But watching him now, his hands moving through the air with that clumsy, unfamiliar stiffness it looked exactly like his love for me.

Forced.

His brows pulled together. Whats wrong? You look pale.

He reached out, his palm aiming for my forehead to check my temperature.

I recoiled.

A sharp, physical dodge. His hand hovered in empty space.

My coat pocket felt heavy. The bag of chestnuts was still there, a heavy, mocking weight against my hip. An hour ago, I was peeling them, smiling like an idiot, terrified they would get cold before I could give them to him.

Now?

My chest felt hollowed out. Ice in my veins.

Im fine, I said. My voice flat. You guys continue.

I turned on my heel and walked away.

Tristan stood there, frozen.

I made it to the corner of the hallway before one of his friends' voices exploded behind me.

Holy shit Tristan, I think your little deaf girl just heard you!

Loving Tristan wasnt a choice. It was a habit. A reflex I couldnt break.

We met when we were kids, back when we both lived in The Compound.

The memory hit me like a physical blow.

The first time I saw him. He was wearing a flannel shirt, sitting under the massive oak tree, a book balanced on his knees.

His housekeeper had made a pitcher of lemonade. She saw me and waved me over.

I can still see it. The gray tiles of the roof. The green canopy of leaves. The blue sky stretching forever.

The boy looked up.

A beam of sunlight cut through the branches and hit his eyes. Gold flecks in the brown.

The wind stopped. The rustling of the leaves vanished. The only sound in the world was my own breathing.

Then, a hot breath against my ear. My brother.

My brother leaned in, whispering, Hey. Your ears are turning red.

Chapter 2

Tristan is so pretty.

That was my mantra. I used to chant it like a spell, following him around like a shadow attached to his heels.

Eventually, he let me in.

He started making detours just to pass by my house. If he saw a hair tie or a doll he thought Id like, he bought it. At night, when the summer heat made the air thick and heavy, wed sit under the oak tree, and hed read to me.

Our parents were always gone. Busy. Important. Absent.

In those years, our parents were too busy to take care of us. We were each others only anchor.

We spent endless nights wandering the alleyways of The Compound. We sat in the back of town cars, driven by silent chauffeurs to watch performances we didnt understand. We were inseparable. The adults used to joke about it.

Look at them. Its fate. A match made in heaven.

I remember the day he grabbed my hand.

His grip was tight. Serious.

I'm going to marry Seraphina, he announced to the empty air. And she has to wait for me. She has to marry me.

Seraphina.

That was my name.

But not long after that promise, my father was transferred. We moved across the country, leaving the East Coastand Tristanbehind.

I was sick a lot back then. My parents, desperate and superstitious, hired a fortune teller. He said the name Seraphina didn't suit my fate.

So, Seraphina died.

And Sutton was born.

Thirteen years.

Thats how long the silence lasted.

When I finally saw him again, my heart hammered against my ribs like a bird trying to break free. I was ecstatic.

But he didn't recognize me.

How could he? He was looking for Seraphina. And he found her. Or thought he did.

He had a girl by his side. Beautiful. Polished. Harper.

I remember seeing them once, months ago.

Harper was on her period. She was demanding ice cream, her voice pitching high in a tantrum.

Tristan tried to say no. He didn't agree.

She ignored him. The cold shoulder.

Harper, he sighed. The sound was heavy with helplessness. And affection.

I'll take you shopping later. Anything you want. Just... please. His voice dropped, cracking with a desperation that made my stomach turn. It took me so long to find you. Let's not drift apart again, okay?

He sounded like he was begging.

He never coaxed me like that. Not once.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Heavy footsteps pounded behind me. Fast.

I snapped back to the present. The nostalgia evaporated, replaced by the sharp tang of adrenaline.

I ran.

The elevator doors opened just in time. I stepped in quickly and pressed the 'Close' button.

Through the narrowing gap, I saw Tristan skid around the corner. He missed the doors by a fraction of a second.

He didn't wait. He spun toward the stairwell door, ripping it open.

My heart was in my throat.

The lobby.

I sprinted out of the building and threw myself into the back of a waiting taxi.

Drive! I gasped.

The driver looked at me in the rearview mirror, startled. Where to, miss?

Just go! Anywhere!

The driver shifted gears, but before his foot could hit the gas

Screech.

A body slammed onto the hood of the car.

The driver screamed. The taxi jerked to a halt.

Tristan.

He was bent over the hood, panting, sweat dripping from his jaw. His eyes were wild. Stormy. A chaotic mix of rage and disbelief. He didn't care that he could have been crushed. He didn't care about physics.

He locked eyes with me through the windshield.

He slammed his palm against the glass.

Sutton! Can you hear me? His voice was muffled, but the vibration traveled through the chassis. Don't you dare leave! Answer me!

The driver was shaking. Jesus Christ, is he crazy?

I rolled down the window. Just an inch.

The air between us crackled.

Yes, I said. My voice was steady, but my hands were trembling in my lap. I can hear you.

Tristans chest heaved. He reached for the door handle.

I'm not going to stop you from chasing your happiness, Tristan, I said, my words cutting through the noise of the street. Go back to Harper. Don't humiliate yourself like this. And don't humiliate me.

Sutton

Drive. Now.

The driver didn't need to be told twice. He floored it.

The tires squealed as we peeled away from the curb, leaving Tristan standing in the exhaust fumes.

I bit down on my knuckle. Hard. The physical pain was the only thing grounding me, the only thing keeping the sob trapped in my throat.

Don't cry. Do not cry.

I glanced at the side mirror.

Tristan wasn't giving up.

He was vaulting onto his dirt bike.

The engine roared to lifea guttural, mechanical snarl that echoed down the street. He kicked the kickstand up and twisted the throttle.

The driver's eyes went wide in the mirror.

Miss? Is that guy your boyfriend? Because he looks like hes about to kill someone.

Chapter 3

The driver's voice trembled, his eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the road. Miss, maybe you should just talk to him? With this traffic... I'm scared he's going to cause an accident.

I didn't argue. I reached into my bag, pulled out a thick stack of cash, and slapped it onto the center console.

Drive, I said, my voice cold steel. As fast as you can. He won't dare hit us.

I underestimated Tristan.

I thought he would give up. I thought he would turn back.

I was wrong.

The roar of his engine tore through the night, a mechanical scream that drowned out the city. He wasn't riding; he was cutting through the air. A black blur. A figure clad in darkness, weaving through the steel river of cars with a terrifying disregard for physics.

He was insane.

A red light betrayed us. The taxi jerked to a stop.

Tristan didn't brake until the last second. He skidded up beside my window.

Bang. Bang.

He slammed his gloved fist against the glass.

I turned. I had never seen a look like that on his face. It wasn't just anger; it was a storm.

When did your hearing come back? His voice was muffled by the glass but the intensity vibrated through the frame. Why come to me tonight just to break up?

He hit the glass again. Harder.

I saw a vein pulsing violently against his temple. His eyes were bloodshot.

Answer me, Sutton!

Around us, other drivers rolled down their windows. We were the show. The spectacle.

The traffic light was about to turn green.

I didn't speak. I couldn't.

Instead, I held up my phone against the window. The screen was bright in the dark cab.

Incoming Call: Harper.

Tristan froze.

His gaze dropped to the screen. He saw the name. The name he claimed was his life, his debt, his love.

He hesitated for a single, agonizing heartbeat.

Then, his hand went to his pocket. He slid the icon. He answered her.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. A bitter, broken smile touched my lips.

Go, I told the driver.

The taxi surged forward, leaving Tristan behind in the intersection, phone pressed to his ear.

No one saw the way my chest caved in.

Tristan. I hope you aren't held hostage by gratitude. I hope you find the happiness you think you want.

A tear hit my phone screen. Then another. Heavy. Hot.

My fingers moved on their own. Block. Delete. Erase.

I scrubbed him from my digital existence. Every number, every social media connection. Gone.

When I got out of the taxi, the night air was biting. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the bag of sugar-roasted chestnuts.

They were cold now. Hard stones.

I walked over to a trash can and dropped them in.

Thud.

I took a year off from university. A medical leave.

When my life stopped orbiting around Tristan, time seemed to stretch into a shapeless void.

I spent my days in the sterile silence of hospital waiting rooms for check-ups, or burying myself in the back corner of the library.

My parents were ghosts who communicated through bank transfers. My account balance grew with zerostheir way of apologizing for their absence. I never told them about the injury. I didn't want the hassle.

Then came the alumni gathering.

I didn't want to go, but I needed to reintegrate.

Thats when I saw her.

Sutton. What a surprise.

Harper.

She was wearing the latest Armani fall collection. Understated. Expensive. Old Money aesthetic bought with new money effort.

She didn't look surprised at all.

The room seemed to split in two.

In the eyes of our classmates, we were polar opposites.

I was the mute oddity. The weirdo. The recluse who lived off campus and disappeared for a year. Mysterious. Aloof.

Harper was the sun. Independent. Strong. Generous. The scholarship girl who made it.

When the two of usTristans ex-fiance and his current "true love"stood face to face, the air in the room shifted.

The whispers started immediately.

Chapter 4

To be honest, if we're talking about looks? Sutton takes the crown.

Please. She's made of glass. Took a whole year off for 'health reasons'? She looks perfectly fine to me.

She doesn't deign to live in the dorms. Off-campus apartment, luxury car... makes you wonder if it's family money or... daddy's money.

Oh, give it a rest. If she was that loaded, why would she be chasing Tristan so hard? Who knows what she actually does for cash.

I think Tristan likes Harper way more. He never spent a dime on Sutton. But with Harper? He drops bags.

Tristan isn't blind. Harper is resilient. Kind. That's wifey material.

I sat in the shadowed corner of the plush sofa. My head was down.

My grip on the boba cup tightened until the plastic buckled under my fingers with a sharp crackle.

I wanted to scream.

Thats not it.

I moved out because I needed to recover in peace. I didn't want to be a burden to you guys with my schedule.

I wanted to be close to you guys. I just didn't know how. I came here tonight to fix this. To bridge the gap.

Tristan isn't here?

Harpers voice sliced through the ambient noise. Sudden. Sharp.

I pressed my lips together into a thin line and shook my head.

Weird, she mused, pitching her voice loud enough for the table to hear. In my memory, he was always so clingy. When we were together, he was like a shadow. If I tried to go anywhere without him, hed get so sulky.

She let out a soft, performative laugh.

But if I ignored him? Hed come crawling back, sweet-talking me, terrified Id actually stop talking to him.

I went still.

Tristan? Clingy?

Tristan... terrified of losing someone?

My chest felt hollow. He never feared losing me. He barely noticed when I was there.

I was drifting, lost in the sudden ache in my ribs, when a voice cut through the fog.

Holy shit. Tristan is here.

I didn't have time to process the words.

A figure cut through the crowd.

The air temperature dropped. The scent of peppermint and cold rain hit me before I saw him. A sensory warning.

He passed right in front of me.

For a fraction of a second, he paused. The kinetic energy in the room stalled.

Then, he kept walking.

I looked up.

Tristan.

He didn't just walk in; he annexed the room.

He spoke a few low words to the manager.

The atmosphere shifted instantly. The standard service vanished. Waiters swarmed in, upgrading the booth to VIP status.

Champagne towers appeared. Rare, imported cakes that were incredibly hard to buy were laid out on the tables.

He controlled the space without lifting a finger. He didn't ask for attention; he demanded it by simply existing.

The room went silent for a heartbeat, then exploded.

Tristan is insane!

Look at this spread!

My head was buzzing. A high-pitched whine of tinnitus spiked, drowning out the cheers. My vision blurred at the edges.

Then, the gravity shifted again.

Every eye in the room swiveled toward me.

The silence returned. Heavier this time. Suffocating.

Tristan lounged against the bar, his dark eyes locked on me. A predator watching prey he had already cornered.

Miss Sutton, he drawled. The formality sounded like a threat.

Truth or Dare. You in?

Chapter 5

I didn't want to be the killjoy. Sure, I said. I'm in.

Tristan chuckled. A dark, low sound that vibrated in his chest. Beside him, Harpers face tightened. She looked like shed swallowed a lemon.

The empty wine bottle spun on the glass table. Whirrr. Click. Click.

It seemed to have a mind of its own. Or rather, it answered to Tristans gravity.

Every time it stopped, it pointed like a loaded gun at someone specific.

Coincidence? Please.

It landed exclusively on the people who had just been trashing me five minutes ago. The girls who gossiped. Her minions.

Dare, Tristan announced, not waiting for them to choose. Three full shots. Vodka. No chasers.

He didn't ask. He sentenced.

The girls who gossiped looked at the line of shot glasses. Their faces went pale.

But nobody defied Tristan. Not when he looked like thatbored, dangerous, and holding the social standing of everyone in this room in his palm. They drank. They choked.

Some people drank it and immediately stumbled to the bathroom.

Harper decided it was time to play the benevolent queen.

Tristan, babe, she purred, placing a hand on his forearm. Her nails dug into his jacket. Its Truth or Dare, right? Let's switch it up. Maybe some truths?

She batted her eyelashes, gaze heavy with suggestion.

Tristan smiled. It was wolfish.

You're right.

He flicked his wrist.

The bottle spun again. Fast. Violent.

The room held its breath. The oxygen seemed to leave the space. Everyone was terrified. Getting picked by Tristan tonight didn't feel like a game; it felt like walking the plank.

The spinning slowed.

Click... Click... Stop.

It pointed straight at me.

Hiss... Someone sucked in a breath.

I felt the weight of their starespity, schadenfreude, excitement.

Oh, I said, my voice flat. Me.

I reached for the wine glass to pour my punishment drink.

Tristans hand shot out. He clamped his fingers over the rim of the glass.

His skin brushed mine. Electric. Cold.

He pulled the alcohol away.

Sutton, he said. His voice dropped an octave. Truth.

He leaned forward, invading my personal space. The air smelled of expensive scotch and danger.

How many men have you loved?

The room went silent. Then, a few stifled giggles rippled through the dark.

I looked him dead in the eye. His irises were black holes, absorbing every scrap of light.

One.

The tension in Tristan's jaw snapped. His shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch.

He looked... satisfied.

Good, he murmured. Next round.

He spun the bottle.

It didn't even pretend to be random this time. It did a lazy circle and stopped.

Me. Again.

The room shifted. Even the densest frat boy could see this wasn't chance. It was a hunt.

The girl sitting next to me leaned in and whispered, Girl... this feels less like bullying and more like flirting.

Tristan! Harper snapped. Her mask crackled. She glared at me, then forced a smile for him. That's against the rules. You can't pick the same person twice in a row. It's not fair to her.

Tristan didn't look at Harper. He didn't look at the bottle.

He looked at me.

Rules are made by people, he said, his tone absolute. And I am the rule.

He rubbed his chin, his eyes dark with calculation.

Sutton. Dare.

He sat back, spreading his arms along the back of the booth. The King in his court.

Find the most handsome guy in this room. And confess your love to him.

Chapter 6

My expression went dark.

A guy burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.

Haha. Do we even need to choose? Just say your name, Tristan.

The room relaxed. They had decided this was just a lover's quarrel. A flirtatious game of hard-to-get.

Tristan shifted his gaze.

He didn't speak. He didn't frown. He just looked at the guy who laughed.

The laughter died instantly. It was like someone cut the power cord.

Wow, Tristan is so generous, a girl stammered, grabbing a fork. Hanging out with him really pays off.

Everyone buried their faces in their plates. The room went silent, save for the scraping of silver on china.

I was the only one left exposed. Tristan's stare was a physical weight, pressing me into the upholstery.

Sutton, he drawled, his voice slow and heavy. You know how to pay a debt, don't you?

I stared at him. What was the point of this?

Did he want me to confess to him in front of everyone, just so he could reject me? Just to prove he had won?

Fine, I said. My voice was calm. But 'present' doesn't just mean the people sitting at this table, right?

Tristan narrowed his eyes.

Before he could calculate my move, I stood up and pulled the VIP door open.

Three guys were walking past in the hallway.

The one in the middle stopped. He looked at me, startled.

He had black hair and eyes that looked like a winter lake. Frozen. Deep. Quiet.

Hey, you.

Sutton!

Tristans voice cracked like a whip behind me. A warning.

I didn't look back. I looked straight at the stranger.

You are really handsome. I like you.

Whoa