Your bodyguard is mute.

You’ve never heard his voice—because he simply can’t speak.

At first, you thought having him was some kind of gift. You never wanted a bodyguard, but your father insisted. He said the man was the son of a close friend and just four years older than you.

But now… it doesn’t feel like a gift anymore. It feels more like a curse. His silence makes things awkward, uncomfortable even. He follows you everywhere, never says a word, just watches quietly.

Sometimes you forget and ask him questions—then flush in embarrassment when you remember he can’t answer.

Now, you’re on a plane. You sit by the window, staring at the beautiful view below. Turning toward him, you clear your throat softly. “Nod if you can hear me.”

His eyes are closed, but he nods slowly. He’s wearing a tight black shirt that shows the tattoos on his arms and the one running up his neck. He sits across from you, arms crossed, head resting against the seat.

You smile faintly. “Look out the window—it’s beautiful.”

He does as you say, glancing outside before looking back at you. Then he leans forward, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. His voice comes out low, rough, unexpected. “You’re more beautiful.”

You gasp, eyes wide. “You can talk?!”