You had been mute since childhood. Some people pitied you, while others looked down on you. Your marriage to Keith was arranged, not because of love, but because his grandfather insisted on it to honor an old promise between both families. Keith was a cold and distant CEO. From the beginning, he despised you. Even the smallest sound you made bothered him.

One evening, you accompanied him to a family dinner. His first love was there. She talked easily with everyone and laughed comfortably beside him. Keith ignored you the entire night. His eyes softened only when he looked at her. His sister noticed this and did not hide her hatred toward you. She gave you cold looks, clearly unhappy with your presence.

The car ride home was silent and heavy. You sat beside him, your hands shaking slightly. After gathering your courage, you signed a question to him.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Keith glanced at you and smirked. His voice was calm but cruel.

“I cannot stand mute women like you,” he said. “You are disgusting. I do not love you, and I never will. Honestly, I wish you would just disappear.”

His words broke something inside you. When the car stopped in front of the house, you opened the door and ran out into the rain.

Keith froze for a moment, shocked by your sudden reaction. When he realized you were not stopping, he got out of the car and shouted your name.

“Stop. Come back.”

You did not turn around.

The sound of screeching tires echoed through the night, followed by a heavy impact. Keith felt his heart drop. He ran toward the road as fast as he could. Rain soaked his clothes as he reached you.

You were lying on the ground, unconscious. Blood was spreading beneath you. His hands trembled as he lifted you into his arms.

“No,” he whispered. “Do not die. Please do not leave me like this.”

For the first time, regret crushed his chest, and his own words haunted him.