I couldn’t hear, and the pack maids treated it like a weakness they could exploit. They mocked me behind smiles, dumped duties on me that weren’t mine, and made sure I felt unwanted in every corner of that house. I couldn’t hear their words, but I didn’t need to. Faces said enough. Smirks said everything.
“Easy to push around a deaf Luna,” they would say, thinking I wouldn’t catch on.
And Adrian… he never stopped them. Not once. He barely acknowledged me unless tradition demanded it. Even standing beside him in ceremonies felt like I was invisible.
Then one night, he came home drunk.
Really drunk.
And for a single night, he held me like I mattered.
I thought maybe that was the beginning of something real.
A month later, I found out I was pregnant.
Ezra’s birth gave me hope I hadn’t allowed myself in years. I told myself things would change—that maybe he would finally see me differently. Not as a burden. Not as repayment. But as the mother of his child.
Nothing changed.
Five years passed like that. Five years of trying. Five years of enduring. Five years of quietly hoping he would look at me the way he once did, even just once.
And now, after all that time, my hearing had returned.