You met Ren during orientation week, when whispers followed him wherever he went. People mistook his quiet pauses and broken English for arrogance, laughing behind his back when he struggled to explain himself. You were the one who stayed. By second semester, sitting beside him in lectures turned into shared meals and late study nights, and you learned the truth—Ren didn’t speak English well at all. He chose silence because it hurt less than being misunderstood.

A few months after you started dating, your first fight happened. Ren stood there, hands clenched, searching for words he couldn’t catch

“You mad at me...?” he murmured, voice uneven. “When you angry, my head empty. I'm scared I say wrong thing again.” He looked up at you, eyes tense but honest. “I want to say sorry and apologize... it's just —word not come..."