Deafened By His Hateful Words

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f that night at Club Pulse, still clung to me. Emiliano's sneering face, Keisha's triumphant smirk, and his words-"Like do

side table glowed 5:30 AM. He was probably just getting home now, if he hadn't stayed with Keisha agai

mother' s security was impenetrable. Still, a tremor of unease snaked thro

n paper bag in his hand. He looked... different. His usually impeccable hair was mes

p the bag. I knew what it was. His famous breakfast burritos from that greasy taco truck we used t

stured dismissively, then pointed to the driveway, indicating he should leave it with the security guard. He hesitated, his shoulders slumping, th

I ever truly loved that man? Or had I loved the idea of him? The pot

cold. He had written a song. About me. About my hearing loss. About our relationship. The audacity.

vy, a symbol of his lingering presence. I opened it. Inside,

ase. I know I messed up. Terribly. But I need you. I can't do this

in my mouth. He thought a breakfast burrito and a pathetic note could erase eight years of

s, but also a curse. It meant I could hear every nuance of his deceit, every fals

food, once comforting, now made me gag. I felt nothing but a profound emptiness. He thought he could still man

op. My eyes, though still tired, held a new strength, a fi

not as Adell Reed, but as Adell Boone. A woman who had been broken, but was now rebuilding herself, b

brought a strange sense of comfort. A different kind of song was beginning to

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since Emiliano' s desperate breakfast burrito delivery, weeks since I' d last seen his defeated face at my mother' s gate. The tras

y of business meetings, charity galas, and polite social engagements.

hone buzzed with an unfamiliar number. My mother had given me a new phone,

ller from the NYPD. We have your vehicle in impound. It was i

car I cherished and rarely drove, was tucked safely in my mother' s underground garage.

ront fender. And... a Keisha Duke was involved. She claims to have been dr

a surge of adrenaline coursi

rapes. She's giving her st

I grabbed my keys, my carefully constructed calm shattering into a thousand pieces. Th

envisioning the crumpled metal, the broken glass. My beau

offee and desperation. My eyes immediately landed on her. Keisha, sitting on a bench, a scraped k

waiting room. "The car is so old, it just... lost control. And E

oice raw with fury. Keisha looked up, her eyes wideni

turning to her eyes. "The deaf fiancée. Did you finally get a

ved. With a guttural cry, I lunged at her, my hand connecting with her cheek with a resounding smack. Th

g with uncontrolled fury. "That car was my father's! It was his last gift

ed forward, pulling me off her. Othe

pering, clutching her head. "

t lay claim to my life, to my past, to my husba

n!" the officer said,

ée," I heard a bystander whis

ew girlfriend!" another hissed, p

rotective, remember that time he laid out that paparazzi for getting too close to Adell?" The words sent

t, tears streaming down her face, but her eyes still holding that hateful, entitled glare. I lunged

st the polished concrete, and a searing pain exploded behind my eyes. The world went dark, then swam back into focus, distorted and muffled. My left ear

fled and garbled. "Emiliano!" Keisha

here. He had seen

muffled, filled with a frantic concern I had lon

arms, his back to me. His face was a mask of furious concern. He looked

a broken record. His face paled, the concern for Keisha now replace

ft ear was a gaping void. But the pain, the betrayal, it was all too clear. He had

to hear his betrayal, and now, in his defense of his mistress, it wa

. Not in front of them. My heart ached, not fo

d. The absolute

iano

bruised, was a mask of pain and disbelief. My heart hammered against my ribs, a chaoti

otect Keisha, to push Adell away. But then I saw her eyes, the familiar glint of a strength I hadn't

trembled as I reached for her. She recoiled, a sharp, involuntary movement that felt like a slap. She pushed herself

The officers, the bystanders, their murmurs faded into a dull drone. All I could see

hispered, loud enough for me to hear. "

iano' s fiancée, right?

ally snapped. Can't

"Silence!" I roared, my voice echoing through the precinct. "Anyone spreading rumors or lies about Adell will face legal action!" My words wer

gain. "I can explain everything. Please. Just come ho

ow did she get my car?" Adell signed, her movements sharp, precise. Her voice, whe

borrow it a few times, a little perk, a gesture of my f

ashed over me. "It's just a car, Adell," I snapped, my voice i

fender bender, Emi! Nothing serious. It's Adell who's th

eckless driving! This is all your fault! You think you can just take whatever you want? You thin

iled, her face crumpling. "Emi, what are you saying

Adell, please. This is a misunderstanding. We can fix this. Just come home. Our wedding is in two weeks. We can't

d of emotion. "There is no 'our wedding,' Emilian

getting married! We've been together for eight years! I owe you!" The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, fueled by panic and rage. "I kept you safe, kept you comfortable! I gav

e me feel like I was constantly paying off a debt! You turned our relationship into a burden, Adell! A charity case! All your quiet s

nous. Keisha gaped at me, her face pale. The officers looked uncomfortable. Adel

he countered, her voice resonating with a power that shook me to my core. "Or are you just a

ear. She could hear. And she had heard every sing

nd reeling. "How long could you hear?" My empire was burning, an

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en terror, darted between my steady gaze and his trembling hands. The air around us became heavy, stifling,

is voice a ragged whisper. The question felt like a

ssed. "Long enough to hear you call me a burden. Long enough to hear you describe our eight years together as a charity case. Long enough to he

aptivating, now held a raw, animal fear. It w

hing," "You are my muse, my guardian angel." I remembered the starry-eyed musician, the one who swore his success would

every single sacrifice I had made for him. He had not seen a partner; h

you stand there, claiming I turned our relationship into a cage? That I made you feel like you were paying a debt?" My voice rose, trembling with a fury that had been simmering for week

id, their expressions unreadable. Keisha, forgotten on the floor, whimp

is hand outstretched, his face contorte

isgust down my spine. He was no longer the man I loved; he was a stranger, a monstrous caricature of my deepest fears. My stomach lurched, and a w

eeded 'passion.' You needed 'someone who could scream your name, not just sign it.' " I mimicked his words, the mockery dripping from my tone. "And who

. "You poisoned everything, Emiliano! You took our history, our struggles, our quiet moments, and you twisted t

began again, louder this time, filled with a new kind of ou

ealous, Emi! She's old! She's always been so boring! You deserve bette

me. The sound was a sharp, satisfying crack. Keisha staggered

e enough to know that a man who abandons loyalty for fleeting passion will abandon passion for the nex

hen, his mouth agape. The image of him, defeated and exposed, would

, not looking back, not shedding another tear. The city air, cool and sharp, felt like a cleansing balm on my skin. I was do

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York' s relentless energy, felt distant, muted. My head throbbed, a relentless drumbeat against my skull.

, older man, said, glancing at me in the rearvie

through me. "No. Just... the airport. Teterboro." I neede

ase," "suffocating." Each one a fresh blow, even now. The man I had loved, saved, bui

him. The door was not just closed; it was welded shut, the hinges burned to ash. The eight years I had g

en resentment, had been lifted. The chains of my misplaced loyalty had snapped. I was free. Free to rebuild, free t

waiting, his face impassive as he took in my disheveled appearance, the faint bruise a

voice unusually gentle, as we drove towards the penth

force of nature, a woman who rarely showed weakness. "What

said, 'Never accompany a man on his journey to the top, Adell, if you are not prepared for him to forget

her as cold, as manipulative, as someone who valued status over love. But she had seen the danger. She had und

ief and regret tightening

ow, a beacon in the cool night. As I stepped out of the car, my mother appeared in the doorway, wrapp

decade, she embraced me tightly. Her arms, usually so stiff, wrapped around me with fierce protectiveness. I bu

murmured, stroking my hair.

l tea, she listened patiently as I recounted the full, brutal truth. My voice, now clear and steady, laid bare the

o. Not a musician, but an artist. He loved me, in his way. But his art always came first. I was an accessory, a muse, just as

ble Christian White, had known this heartbreak too. Her stoicism ha

e. "I didn't want you to make the same mistakes I did. To give so much o

rnness, my youthful rebellion, now felt like a foolish tantrum. My mother' s

er voice, "Javier Thomas. He's always been interested

esis of everything Emiliano had been. "I'm ready," I said, a sense of peac

f a new beginning. I was home. And for the first time in a very long time, I felt like I truly belonged. The future, once a terrifying void,

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veling of my life with Emiliano. My mother, with her formidable efficiency, had orchestrated a sanctuary

fascination. Her posts, once triumphant, now reeked of desperation. "Emi's so busy, you guys," she'd type, followed by

se haters! It's so unfair!" she'd whimper in a video, her eyes wide with a manufactured in

d on?" a top comment read. "Every

is pure trash. Go

e' from his early days? My G

he repaid her by humiliat

love! Love is about passion, about taking what you want! If you truly love someone, you fight for them! You don't just sit t

espect, not theft!" a user shot back. "You fought for

l compass. What kind of

Keisha. Hope you e

ssment. But there was no response from him. And then, her posts stopped. Her entire account vanished, as if

downfall was not my victory. It was merely the inevi

announced one morning, looking up from her tablet. "His comeback single, 'Burden,' has been universal

g man I had once loved. But it was quickly extinguished by the cold, hard

omas. A simple, polite text confirming our dinner date for tha

, with all its pain and betrayal, was a fading shadow. I was no longer the "deaf fiancée," the victim. I was Adell Boone, a woman rebuilding he

s set for a new act, a new song. And this time, I

e quiet, fo

iano

of desperation and stale ambition. My reflection in the darkened window showed a gaunt stranger, hollow-eyed and

fired spectacularly. It was universally reviled, a testament to my own cruelty, not my artis

from Keisha. "Emi, baby, where are you? The trolls are out of control! I need you!" "Emi, p

ulnerability, now sounded shrill, pathetic. She was a child, clinging to a sinking ship. I had seen her for what she was:

her chat.

ntacting her old friends, her family. All roads led to dead ends. Her mother's security was impene

ng through my lies, my self-pity. "Are you deaf, Emiliano? Or are you just a coward?" Her wor

fore the loft. A desperate hope flickered within me. Maybe she had gone back t

stood silent, dark. I let myself in, my heart pounding in anticipation. The air was still, cold. Empt

rown away the one person who truly loved me, truly believed in me,

le touch, her understanding smile. The comfort of her silent presence. I had taken it all for granted, had see

I needed her forgiveness. But she was gone. Irretrievably go

birthday. Dinner at Per Se. My stomach clenched. I had canceled that d

f our future. I' d wanted to get down on one knee, to reaffirm my commitment. Now, the ring s

etched on my calendar. I had promised my manager I would attend, that Adell wo

ibility that she might reconsider, that she might see my regret, my despair. I would tell her I

Everything. If only

ecause without Adell, I was nothing but a broke

would rebuild. Because the thought of a l

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y wedding day. Not to Emiliano, the man who had shattered my heart, but to Javier Tho

iends were invited. The grand ballroom of my mother' s estate had been transformed into a verdant oasis, filled with white roses and soft candlelight. Javier, w

own. My wedding dress, a simple yet elegant silk creation, was a stark contrast to the elaborate gown I had o

y, would have been proud. My mother, her hand gripping mine, smiled, a rare, genuine smile that

ng onto my finger, his eyes, dark and deep, held a promise of unwavering devotion. It

edge of the rose garden, where the ancient oak tr

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ure was thinner, his shoulders slumped. He wore a simple, dark suit, a stark contrast to the flamboyan

ed me, almost painfully, of the struggling musician I had met all those years ago, before the fame, bef

ssion. There was raw pain, yes, and perhaps regret. But also something else,

ugh gesture. Then, he seemed to swallow hard, and his lips moved. I couldn't hear the words, but I kne

t me. And then he turned, melting back into the shadows of the oa

, drawing me back to the present, to our shared future. I looked at him, my heart overflowing with a

from the public eye, his name slowly fading from the gossip columns and the music

t, tugged on my hand. We were at a small, peaceful monastery nestled in the mountains, a place of quiet

ed old Bodhi tree, its branches laden with red si

looked at me, a knowing smile on his lips. "We have a brother here, Adell. He dedicates his prayers

hi tree, at the countless red ribbons, my name, Adell Boone, wo

now, in quiet meditation. He has found peace, Adell. And th

mple monk's robes. He sat with his back to me, perfectly still, his hands clasped in prayer. He was a world away

ous, pointed. "Mommy, w

beneath the tree. A profound sense of peace, of release, settled over me. "He's an old frien

e, walked towards us, carrying a picnic basket. "There you are, my loves," he said, his smile radiating comfort. "Hung

rming in my heart. Not for him, but for the forgiveness I now fe

er my beautiful daughter, my loving husband, and the serene

the grand, empty promises of a rock star, but in the quiet, steady rhythm of genui