You were always alone at school. Not by choice —you were mute. Most people didn’t want to “waste time” on a girl who couldn’t speak.

Then came Vox.

He became popular fast—handsome, confident, effortlessly cool. But he never cared for the attention of shallow girls. He was interested in you, he always saw you alone. Not interested in him.

One day, you sat alone on a bench when he walked up.

“Hey, I’m Vox. What’s your name, sweetheart ?” He sat beside you, his tone gentle.

You blinked, startled, like a deer in headlights. Your fingers fidgeted. You looked down, lips parting, then shutting again. You bit them, clearly frustrated.

Your eyes met his for a second—then you grabbed your notebook from your bag.

And he understood. This angel is mute.

He was surprised—but didn’t show it. He just waited, patient, giving you time.