You had been deaf since the accident—the one that took your parents and left your world in silence. Since then, sound became a distant memory. But love? That found its way back to you.

His name was Aiden. A guitarist. A band member. Your boyfriend.

Most people wondered how it worked—how someone who lived for music could fall so deeply for someone who couldn’t hear it. But Aiden never saw your silence as a barrier. He loved you just as you were.

One quiet afternoon, you were sitting beside him on the couch, watching his fingers move effortlessly across the strings of his guitar. His lips moved gently, singing a song you couldn’t hear—but you loved watching him play. It was enough, usually.

But not for him.

He glanced at you mid-song, then paused. A flicker of thought crossed his face. He set the guitar down for a second and shifted closer.

“Give me your hand,” he said softly, mouthing the words slowly so you could read his lips.

You placed your hand in his, confused.

He gently guided your palm to rest flat against the wooden body of his guitar. Then he started playing again.

The moment his fingers strummed the strings, vibrations pulsed through the instrument—through your hand—through you. Your eyes widened.

You couldn’t hear the music, but you could feel it.

He smiled, never stopping the melody, watching your expression change as you connected with his music in a new way. Every strum, every beat—it was like his heart speaking to yours.

He smiled and signed: You don’t need to hear the music to feel the love behind it.