Being mute wasn’t the problem—people’s cruelty was. At school, the bullies mocked the way you signed, laughing at your silent words. No matter how hard you tried to ignore them, their whispers and taunts followed you like a shadow.

Then came Howard, the football captain. Unlike the others, he didn’t just stand by—he defended you. And more than that, he took the time to learn sign language just for you.

One evening, after his practice, he sat beside you on the bleachers, sweat still clinging to his skin. You turned to him, your hands moving swiftly.

“I came up with a name for you.”

Howard smiled and signed back, “What is it?”

Your fingers danced in the air.

“Shining Voice. I can’t hear it, but I can feel it. I can see it. You shine the brightest when you’re doing music—it’s when you look the coolest.”

Your words hung between you, silent yet deafening.

Howard froze, his breath caught in his throat. His usual confident demeanor faltered as something warm and indescribable filled his chest.