Chapter 2: Promises in the Shadows

But he always treated me with that cold indifference, like he honestly couldn’t stand me, making me too scared to get close to him at all.

Sometimes I’d watch him from across the cafeteria, picking at my lunch, wondering if he even remembered those summers we spent catching fireflies or building blanket forts in the backyard. Now, he wouldn’t even glance my way.

I also knew that when we turned twenty-two and it was time to honor the family tradition, he’d never agree to marry me.

It felt like the kind of old-school promise that belonged in another era—not in a town where everyone drove pickup trucks, posted TikToks, and gossiped about who was dating who. So I always stuffed down my feelings, refusing to let myself fall for him. I was terrified that when the time came, I’d just end up the punchline of some sad story.

...

After school, I trailed behind Eli, clutching Brianna’s love letter, my mind racing with a thousand what-ifs. His posture was perfectly straight, quietly walking ahead of me. In the golden summer sunlight, his blue and white Mustangs varsity jacket—with its big ‘M’ patch and roaring horse mascot—made his skin look almost ghostly pale. He was so handsome it felt unreal, like he’d stepped out of a magazine ad.

He walked with a slow, steady confidence, totally unfazed by the chaos of students spilling out of the building. Eli was seriously good-looking, and it wasn’t a secret—plenty of girls at school had their eye on him.

I’d once had a selfish thought: since Eli had a hearing impairment, maybe no girls would want to get close to him when we grew up, and he’d be mine alone. Who knew that as we got older, there’d be so many rivals for his attention, all determined to get close to him, impossible to keep away.

I sighed and reached out to tap his shoulder.

He turned to look at me, adjusting his hearing aid with those long, graceful fingers. “What’s up?”

His voice was always so even, so flat, like he was reciting lines in a school play. I sighed again inside, wishing he’d just talk to me like a real person. He always spoke to me with that icy, distant tone.

I said, a little annoyed, “A love letter. Someone asked me to give you a love letter.”

He looked stunned for a split second, the frost in his eyes melting away as a tiny, almost invisible smile flickered by. “Did you write it?”

For a heartbeat, I thought I saw something softer in his eyes—like a secret he was trying to hide—and it almost made me forget to breathe. I shook my head, too flustered to speak.

He immediately took out his hearing aid, his face icing over, and turned to leave.

I stood there, flustered and awkward, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of the letter.

I really don’t get why he’s always so cold to me. Even if we grew up together, even if we were just classmates, he shouldn’t treat me like I’m invisible, right?

I rushed up and shoved the love letter into his hand, my cheeks burning.

He only got angrier, tossing the letter aside, and signed at me furiously—his hands moving fast, almost shaking: “It’s one thing to say we’re not close at school, but you even help other people give me love letters?”

His gaze dropped to my neck, lingering on the red marks.

“What did you do with Gabriel?”

“Give me a little respect. Tell people you know me, say we’re engaged—would that kill you?”

“Is it because I have a hearing impairment? Do I embarrass you?”

He took a deep breath, his hands falling to his sides, shoulders slumping in defeat.

But I couldn’t understand sign language at all! My stomach twisted with guilt and frustration.

I had no idea what he was trying to say. I’d always told myself Eli didn’t want to be treated like he was disabled—he wanted to be seen as just a regular guy. Since he wore a hearing aid and could hear fine most of the time, I’d never bothered to learn sign language. But now, staring at his angry, desperate face, I wished I had. I felt a wave of guilt for never trying harder, for not caring enough to bridge that gap between us.

Looking at his furious face, I could only guess he was scolding me for meddling where I didn’t belong.

I didn’t want to embarrass myself further, so I turned and hurried away, my cheeks burning.

From then on, our already distant relationship grew even more awkward. The silence between us felt like a wall, growing taller every day, shutting out even the smallest chance of understanding. Until college, when I found out Eli was at the same university as me.

I was shocked. Eli had killer grades—he could’ve gone anywhere in the country—so why’d he pick my school, and even my major? I couldn’t help but wonder if it was just a weird coincidence, or if there was something more he wasn’t telling me.

What surprised me even more was that when we turned twenty-two, our families met to talk about our marriage. The whole thing felt like some old family tradition, but in a town where everyone gossiped, it wasn’t that unusual.