"Get out of my way."
The words came like a slap.
He shoved the pregnant woman aside as he stormed through the doorway. Her back struck the frame, a sharp gasp tearing from her lips as pain rippled through her body. She staggered, one hand flying to her stomach, the other clutching the wall for balance. For a moment, the world tilted but she forced herself to steady her breathing.
"How many times have I told you not to wait for me?" he snapped. "I come home stressed every single day, and then I'm forced to look at your pathetic face. It only makes everything worse."He snapped .
Maya swallowed hard.
Her eyes glistened, but she didn't cry. Slowly, carefully, she reached for his hand, her fingers trembling as they touched his wrist. With the other hand, she pointed toward the small table nearby the plate of food she had kept warm for him. Then she gestured again, her movements gentle, asking him why he was late… asking him to eat, at least a little.
He let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
"Jesus Christ, are you really that dense, Maya?" he scoffed. "How many times do I have to tell you I don't understand your stupid sign language."
Her hand froze mid-air.
"The accident didn't just make you deaf and mute," he continued coldly, leaning closer so she could see his lips clearly. "It made you stupid too. Read my lips. I don't want your food."
He slapped her hands away.
Without another glance, he turned and marched upstairs, his footsteps heavy with anger.
Maya looked at him, sadness clouding her eyes.
She slowly sat at the table where she had prepared his meal, her movements heavy, careful. Pain rippled through her body, and she released a tired breath, one hand drifting to her swollen belly.
What happened to you, Damson? she asked silently.
Her fingers spread protectively over her stomach as a quiet resolve settled in her chest.
I will win his love back, she promised inwardly, clinging to the thought.
The accident had changed everything. It had stolen her hearing… and her voice. Since that day, her husband had grown cold, distant like a stranger living under the same roof. Still, Maya remained gentle, repeating her daily routines with unwavering patience, believing that one day he would soften, that he would return to the man she once knew.
She stood slowly, wincing as she gathered the untouched food and placed it carefully into the refrigerator. Then she made her way to their room.
Inside, she found him sprawled on the bed, phone in hand laughing.
The sight made her heart twist in two opposite directions. Sadness bloomed… yet happiness followed closely behind. It had been so long since she had seen him smile like that.
Who is making you this happy? she wondered.
He noticed her then. Without a word, he grabbed his pillow and blanket, still focused on his phone, and walked past her, heading toward the couch.
Understanding struck her like a quiet blow.
He doesn't want to sleep with me.
The thought tightened her chest.
Did I anger him by waiting for him? By asking him to eat? she questioned herself, guilt creeping in—but she pushed the feeling aside. She didn't want to disturb him further.
Maya lowered herself onto the bed, her body aching legs throbbing, back burning with fatigue. Curling slightly, she rested a hand on her belly, breathing through the discomfort.
Despite everything, she forced her eyes shut.
And eventually, exhaustion carried her into sleep.
Morning came too quickly.
Maya jolted awake and instinctively reached for the clock. Her breath hitched when she saw the time.
She had overslept.
Panic surged through her as she hurried out of bed, her body still heavy and sore. She rushed downstairs to the kitchen, heart pounding, praying he wouldn't come down before breakfast was ready. Damson always left for work after eating. Always.
Her hands trembled as she searched for something anything she could prepare quickly.
Then a bold idea struck her.
She remembered the food she had carefully stored in the refrigerator the night before. Moving swiftly, she warmed it gently, making sure not to burn it. When it was ready, she arranged it neatly on the dining table, forcing her breathing to calm.
She waited.
When Damson entered, Maya lifted her hand and signed a soft good morning, her eyes hopeful.
He scoffed.
Without acknowledging her, he sat down and took a bite. The moment the food touched his mouth, he let out a sharp laugh.
"Why did you give me yesterday's food?" he snapped. "Huh? Do I look like a dog to you?"
His voice rose in anger.
Maya stood frozen beside the table. She couldn't hear the words, but she didn't need to. His expression twisted with fury told her everything. Somehow, he knew.
Her hands moved quickly as she tried to explain. She signed that she had woken up late, that she felt unwell, that she had only warmed the food from yesterday so he wouldn't leave hungry.
Damson shot to his feet.
"I told you I don't understand your stupid language!" he yelled.
With one violent sweep of his arm, he shoved the plates off the table. They shattered against the floor, the soundless crash still jolting her. Maya flinched, instinctively shielding her belly as shock rippled through her.
Without another glance, he stormed out of the house.
Silence followed.
Maya slowly knelt on the cold floor, pain spreading through her knees and back. Her chest felt tight, her thoughts spiraling.
Did it taste bad?
Is that why he's so angry with me?
As Maya cleaned up the broken plates, a sharp sting shot through her finger.
She sucked in a broken breath as she realized a shard of glass had sliced her skin. Blood welled instantly. Wincing, she wrapped the cut with a cloth and rinsed it under water, her hands trembling from pain and exhaustion.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen.
Where are you? Where are the flowers?
Her heart dropped.
The flowers.
She had completely forgotten.
The chaos of the morning the shouting, the shattered plates, the fear had thrown her mind into disarray. Panic seized her as she hurried to the garage, grabbed a bouquet of fresh flowers, and rushed out to book a cab.
Traffic was unbearable.
By the time she reached the hotel, she was already late.
Clutching the bouquet tightly, she scanned the reference photo on her phone and soon spotted the man who had placed the order. She approached him hurriedly but before she could do anything, he exploded.
"Why did I even hire you?" he snapped. "My girlfriend has already left! Why are you so late?"
Maya froze.
She couldn't hear his words, but his furious expression and the violent movements of his lips made his anger unmistakable. Quickly, she tried to explain using sign language gesturing that there had been heavy traffic.
That only enraged him further.
"Oh, so now you're pretending to be deaf?" he sneered. "Using these stupid signs to act disabled?"
He ripped the bouquet from her hands and threw it to the floor, petals scattering everywhere.
Maya's breath hitched. Fear crept into her eyes as she watched his mouth twist with rage. According to the sharp, aggressive movements of his lips, he was furious.
He suddenly raised his hand.
Maya flinched, instinctively curling inward, her arms lifting protectively .
But before his palm could strike her face, another hand shot out and caught his wrist midair.
The grip was firm.