Chapter 1 Afraid of Being Forgotten

Josephine Vance stared at the clock on the wall. By the time it struck 12, the food on the table had gone cold again.

She took the dishes into the kitchen and reheated them once more.

At 12.50 am, the doorknob turned, and she turned to see that Lewis Alvarez had returned.

His face showed subtle signs of drunkenness as he walked toward her, his suit jacket slung on his arm.

Josephine stood up and poured him a glass of water to help him sober up, but he knocked it over the minute she reached out. Then, he grabbed her chin and kissed her on the lips.

The smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of a woman’s perfume hit her as he approached. She tried to push him away, but he ended up carrying her straight into the bedroom.

The man carelessly threw her onto the bed and leaned over without saying a word.

Josephine bit her lip and silently endured the act, turning her head to stare at the potted plant in the corner of the room.

There was no emotion, only lust and take.

The man grabbed her face and gazed deeply into her eyes, lightly stroking her face with his fingers. "Why aren’t you saying anything?" he asked.

Josephine stared straight at him with watery eyes. He knew she wouldn't speak. She was mute.

But he would still ask her every time.

Josephine sometimes struggled to tell if he was humiliating her or expressing his lament.

She grabbed the hand on her face and tilted her head to nuzzle it against his palm like a kitten trying to please its owner.

This was the only way she could comply with him in these situations.

The man's pupils darkened as if a surging undercurrent was about to wash them over. He grabbed her hand and pinned it above her head before kissing her lips.

…

When Josephine opened her eyes, it was already bright outside. The space next to her in bed was empty, but there was the sound of water coming from the bathroom.

She picked up her clothes from the floor and put them on. Just as she was putting on the last garment, the phone on the bedside table made a sound. It was Lewis’ phone.

She looked at the blurry figure through the bathroom door and then at the phone screen.

There was a text from Sierra Woods. “You left?”

Then came another. “You do this every time, looking for that mute girl just to annoy me.”

Josephine froze.

The bathroom door opened, and Lewis walked out with a towel wrapped around his waist.

There were still droplets of water on his body. His wet hair was hanging down, dripping. Drops of water gathered on his chest and trickled along the lines of his abdominal muscles.

Josephine looked away and lowered her head to button her clothes.

The man came to the bed, picked up his phone, and glanced at the woman who was dressing with her head down.

“You saw it?”

Josephine’s lips curled into a smile, and she shook her head.

On their wedding day, he said, "You have to be a good girl. Don’t fall in love with me. We'll be like how we used to be, and I will take care of you for a lifetime like a brother."

He told her not to fall in love with him.

So what if she saw it?

He would probably care, but not about whether she was jealous, hurt, or upset.

Those who were not cared for had no right to be angry.

On the contrary, her love and emotions would only burden him.

She was afraid that he, too, would stomp on her heart.

She was afraid that he...would not want her anymore.

She gestured in sign language, "I'll go make breakfast."

Josephine got up and dragged her sore body into the kitchen.

Lewis stared at her back, then looked at his phone and deleted the messages from Sierra.

After Josephine finished making breakfast, she brought it to the table and placed it in front of his seat.

After a while, the man got dressed and came to the table.

The room was dead silent. Lewis used to say that being with her was like talking to himself.

Over time, he stopped talking to her. There was only the clattering of bowls and spoons for a while.

"Come with me to Alvarez Manor later," he suddenly said.

Josephine stopped and placed her spoon on the edge of the bowl.

“Okay,” she gestured.

Lewis glanced at her. Her face always had the same gentle expression.

Never too much or too little, and no matter how much she was wronged, she would always greet others with a smile.

The porridge in his bowl suddenly felt tasteless.

He threw the spoon back into the bowl. The crisp clatter sounded especially loud in the quiet dining room.