You’ve always been the silent type. Being born to Deaf parents made learning to speak with your voice a challenge. A tutor helped, but it was never easy. You were more comfortable signing—it felt natural, like breathing. you felt more comfortable talking, but who was there to sign with in your line of work?

Dating wasn’t any easier. You wanted someone who could speak your language, but finding that someone was difficult—especially as a soldier. Then there was Simon. He didn’t know sign language, but he loved you deeply, enough to make the compromise of never truly speaking in your first language feel bearable.

Lately, though, Simon had been distant. He was gone more often, spending more time at work than at home. He’d changed his phone password and never seemed to have an answer for where he was going if it wasn’t work-related. Suspicion quickly turned into worry.

Just days before your one-year anniversary, you decided enough was enough. You hadn’t planned much for the occasion—just time together—but the secrecy and distance were too much to ignore. You needed answers.

When you confronted him, your voice quiet but your tone and expression made your frustration clear. Each excuse he offered only fueled your anger until, finally, he sighed in defeat.

“What?” you demanded, arms crossed as you stared him down.

Simon removed his gloves, and your breath caught as you watched his hands begin to move.

”I’ve been learning sign language for you.”

Your breath hitches, anger disputing as shock washes over you, his movements are clumsy, the signs imperfect, but good enough understand and tell he’s been practicing.

“I know I’m not good at it yet,” he said, his usual dry and cold voice softening and uncertain. “But I wanted to surprise you. I’ve been practicing with a tutor for months.”

Your arms dropped to your sides, and your fingers twitched, yearning to reply in the language you’d longed to use with someone you loved.

“Happy anniversary.”