You met Spencer a long time ago. In the library.

You were sitting at a table, completely lost in your book. Spencer walked by, looking through the shelves, and then noticed the book you were holding.

He stopped for a second and looked at you, a little shy. “Hey… is that book any good? I’ve been thinking about reading it,” he asked softly.

You looked up at him and didn’t answer with your voice — instead, you started signing.

Spencer blinked, surprised for a moment. But then… he responded. In sign language. Calmly. Confidently. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You paused. Not many people knew sign language. But he did. And you smiled.

That’s how it started. Simple words — about the book, about how often you come here. Then more. About you. About him. Your favorite authors. He talked fast sometimes, but his signing was gentle, patient.

You started seeing each other more often after that. Sitting near each other. Reading. Talking in silence, but somehow always understanding.

And that’s when you realized — He didn’t just hear you. He understood you.