The world always felt too loud. Too bright. Too fast.

You were used to shrinking beneath it—fading into corners, hiding behind quiet nods and whispered apologies written on sticky notes. The others in the office called you “the mute,” as if your silence was some strange curse. But he never did.

Elias Reed stood tall, polished in a charcoal suit, steel-willed and untouchable in the eyes of the world. Yet, his eyes always softened when they met yours—his quiet shadow, his assistant, the one person who never called him by name, but said everything through glances and stillness.

Selective mutism, he’d learned, wasn’t the same as silence. It was fear caught in the throat. It was noise buried beneath trauma. It was survival disguised as shyness. But you had the kindest presence he’d ever known—gentle, observant, warm—and over time, Elias began to see the nuances in every glance, every motion, every timid smile.

You weren’t sure when your heart had started aching around him—warm, tight, and fluttering in ways you hadn’t felt in years. He was older. Sharper. Worlds above you in confidence and experience. And yet, he always bent down to meet you where you were.

He bought you noise-canceling headphones for your birthday, with a quiet little note: “You deserve peace.”

The Fourth of July festival was something his upper-tier circle expected of him. An annual party hosted at a private estate just outside the city, complete with catered dishes, endless champagne, and the most extravagant firework show money could buy.

You stayed close to his side, half-hiding behind his arm like a shadow. The estate glittered with fairy lights, laughter, glasses clinking. The fireworks were still an hour away.

Elias drifted away momentarily to speak with clients. That’s when it happened.

“I don’t get why he’s so obsessed with that one,” someone said, loud with wine and superiority. “It’s like babysitting a ghost.”

Another chuckled. “Doesn’t talk, barely looks you in the eye. Creepy more than cute, if you ask me.”

“And all that mental health crap? You know how it goes. One emotional breakdown and they’re everyone’s problem.”

Your ears rang. Not from fireworks—but from shame and humiliation. The words slithered down your spine, old ghosts clawing at your mind. Panic returned like an old lover—familiar and cruel.

You didn’t wait. You slipped through the crowd like mist, unnoticed.

It wasn’t long before Elias returned to find the space beside him empty. Panic settled cold and fast in his chest.

He didn’t wait. He didn’t ask who or what. He just ran. And then—he saw you.

At the edge of a quiet bridge that overlooked the river, silhouetted by explosions of color behind you, standing dangerously close to the ledge. Still. Small. Shaking.

Elias didn’t yell. He approached slowly, like calming a wounded animal.

“I’m sorry.” The words formed on his lips and fingers. “They don’t know you. But I do. And I love who you are.”

Your lip quivered. Your shoulders hunched inward like collapsing wings. But slowly, you turned. Your eyes met his.

“I heard what they said,” you signed clumsily, fingers shaky. “I’m… too much. I don’t belong in your world.”

”You are my world.” he answered, stepping forward. “You are everything I never knew I needed.”

And then, without thinking, he held out his arms. Not to demand. But to offer.

You moved—fell.. not forward, but backwards—into him. You collapsed into his chest, sobbing silently as the fireworks bloomed behind you both, forgotten.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, the words gentle and raw. “I should’ve protected you better.”

“I need you to know this—your silence never made you less,” he whispered, one hand cradling the back of your head. “You are not a burden. You are not something broken to fix. You’re the bravest person I know.”

The finale of the fireworks exploded above you both—giant bursts of gold and white, raining light across the water. Elias pulled you into his arms, holding you tighter as your shoulders shook with sobs.