When I was nine years old, the explosion that nearly killed Blair took my hearing instead. I remember the heat, the concussive force that felt like a physical punch to the soul. Afterward, there was only silence. A thick, suffocating cotton-wool silence. Blair was consumed by guilt. I remember her sitting by my hospital bed, her small hands trembling as she held mine, eyes red and swollen. She demanded—no, she begged—our parents to let us be engaged. It was a child’s promise, heavy with an adult’s burden. "Wes," she sobbed, "I’m going to take care of you forever." But forever ended when we turned eighteen. It was the night of our graduation party. To prove herself to Carter—the golden boy, the captain of the lacrosse team, the guy every girl wanted—she decided I was the sacrifice she had to make. She reached out and pulled the hearing aid from my left ear. Right there in front of Carter and half the senior class. Her voice dripped with a new, cruel kind of venom. "God, you little burden. I am so sick of you." She laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. "Honestly? I wish you hadn't made it out of that fire when we were nine. It would have been cleaner if you’d just died." I stood there, clutching the medical report in my pocket that I’d been waiting to show her. I didn’t say a word. I went home, quietly logged into the university portal to change my acceptance commitment, and told my parents it was over. Blair, you and I are done. The road ends here. ... "Wes? Honestly, I wish you hadn't made it out of that fire when we were nine. It would have been cleaner if you’d just died." When Blair said those words, the VIP booth at the club erupted. "Damn, Blair! That was cold. You’re a legend." "Next time, when he gets his miracle cure, you should whisper that right in his ear. I bet he’d cry. He’s such a soft boy, always looking at you with those puppy dog eyes." "What’s it matter if he hears it? Who wants a cripple anyway? You were a saint for putting up with him this long." I stood frozen in the shadows of the hallway, my hand gripping the folded paper in my jacket pocket so hard my knuckles turned white. My hearing had been fully restored weeks ago. My parents had taken me to a specialist in Zurich right after finals. No more hearing aids. No more static. Today was my eighteenth birthday. I had planned this night down to the second. I was going to surprise her. I was going to tell her that I was fixed, that I wasn't her broken toy anymore. Instead, my carefully orchestrated surprise had turned into a live autopsy of my heart. Her words felt like serrated blades, twisting in my chest, cutting off my air supply. The pain was physical, sharp and radiating. I bit my lip until I tasted iron, looking up at Blair through the dim neon lights. Why? She didn't even look at me. She was looking at the white hearing aid in her hand, tossing it up and down like a cheap party favor, a lazy, amused smile playing on her lips. "Alright, that’s enough," she drawled. "He did save my life when we were kids. Let’s not be too mean. Keep it down, I don't want him walking in on this." The group fell into line immediately. "Right, right. Lips are sealed." "Still, Wes getting to date you? Being deaf was a small price to pay for that privilege." Laughter rippled through the room again. "Okay, okay," Blair said, waving a hand dismissively. "Wes is a good guy, really. He’s just... boring. Not like us. He can’t handle the way we play." Carter stepped forward then, that arrogant smirk plastered on his face. He wrapped an arm around her waist. "Blair," he announced, his voice thick with self-importance, "you passed the test." "Now I believe you’re actually over him. So, tomorrow? We’re on." Blair’s face softened in a way I hadn’t seen in years. Her eyes practically melted. "It’s a date," she whispered. I watched, my mind blanking out. The world felt like it had hit a sudden, jarring pause. The jeers, the music, the clinking glasses—it all swirled into a high-pitched ringing in my ears that had nothing to do with deafness. "Babe? Where did you go?" I blinked, and suddenly Blair was in front of me, fitting the hearing aid back into my ear. She smiled, sweet and practiced. "So happy you’re zoning out?" I was supposed to be happy. Eighteen. Accepted to her dream school. Confirmed relationship in front of all our friends. It was supposed to be the season finale of a perfect teen drama. But now, when I opened my mouth, my throat felt like it was full of sand. The others jumped in, covering their tracks with seamless lies. "Wes! You missed it. Blair was just saying the sweetest stuff about you while she cleaned your device. Seriously, made us all jealous." "God, I wish I had a childhood sweetheart." "You’re a lucky bastard," Carter said, clapping me on the shoulder hard. "Getting a girl like Blair? That’s good karma." I remained silent. I scanned their faces. The smiles, the thumbs-up, the jokes about being the best man at our wedding. Not a single crack in the facade. They were terrifyingly natural liars. It hit me then—how many times had this happened before? How many times this year had she taken my hearing aid out, looked me in the eye with a tender smile, and whispered something vile while I just nodded like a fool? If I hadn't gone to Zurich. If I hadn't been cured. I would have spent the rest of my life thanking her for loving me, never hearing the glass shards hidden in her honeyed words. "Whoops," Carter said suddenly, pulling his hand back from Blair’s shoulder as if he’d been burned. He looked at me with mock apology. "Sorry, Wes. You know how we are. Just messing around. Don't get jealous, man." Blair laughed, swatting his arm. "Stop it. You treat me like one of the guys, you forget I’m actually a girl." They started chasing each other around the booth, playful and intimate. Everyone else watched like it was the most normal thing in the world. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I turned to leave. Carter was there in a second, blocking my path. His eyes narrowed. "Everyone came here for you, Wes. You’re just gonna leave?" Blair came over, ruffling my hair like I was a golden retriever. "Come on, you haven't even opened your presents. Don't be a brat." I flinched, stepping back to avoid her touch. I ignored the sudden confusion clouding her face. I looked her dead in the eye and spoke clearly, calmly. "We’re breaking up. Don't contact me again." Then I walked out. My phone started blowing up before I even reached the parking lot. Blair: What is your problem? Everyone made an effort to be here for you. You’re being incredibly rude. Blair: Carter was just excited. He’s loud and outgoing, not quiet and timid like you. He apologized immediately. Why are you so insecure? Then the group chat chimed in: Friend 1: Wes, that was too much. Friend 2: Storming out like a diva? What did we ever do to you? Friend 3: Unbelievable. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. I stared at the screen, a cold laugh escaping my lips. "Who’s the one being too much?" I muttered. I blocked them. One by one. Then I left the group chat. When I got home, I told my parents the abbreviated version. "I don't love her anymore," I said, sitting at the kitchen island. My parents looked at me with concern, and suddenly, the dam broke. The ache in my chest swelled into my throat. "I don't want to go to NYU with her. I don't want to be with her. I don't want to marry her." My mom didn't ask questions. She just pulled me into a hug, wiping my tears. "Wes, honey, it’s okay. It’s not the end of the world." "We’ll handle the engagement. We’ll break it off tomorrow. You go wherever you want for college. We’ve got your back. Always." My dad walked me to the living room and placed the silver cake knife in my hand. "We didn't get a chance to bring the cake to the venue before you came back," he said softly. "It’s better this way. Just the three of us. A quiet birthday." "Eighteen years ago, you made me the happiest man alive. Don't cry, birthday boy. Make a wish." I managed a watery smile. Under the warm gaze of my parents, I blew out the candles. Just as I was about to cut the cake, the doorbell rang. It was Blair. Outside, a summer storm had broken. Rain was coming down in sheets, thunder rattling the windows. She was soaked to the bone, water dripping from her hair onto the porch, but she didn't seem to care. She just stood there, smiling, holding out a velvet jewelry box. "Look. I picked this out just for you." "Stop being moody. Everyone is waiting for you at the club. And stop saying we’re breaking up, okay? It’s not funny." I looked at the necklace in the box. It looked familiar. Carter had been wearing a watch from the same designer collection tonight. A matching set. I didn't take it. Blair’s arm stayed suspended in the air. After a long moment, she dropped it, annoyance creeping into her tone. "Did you take the wrong meds today or something?" "You were crying tears of joy when I agreed to date you. Now you’re stone cold? What happened to the sweet, obedient Wes?" My chest tightened. I didn't even want to argue. For years, I had been living in a dream, convinced she was my soulmate. I thought we’d go to New York, get degrees, get married, have kids. Tonight, the dream had been brutally dissected. She didn't love me. To her, I was just the debt she owed because I saved her life. I was an accessory she’d outgrown. I took a deep breath. "I’m not playing games. The breakup is real. Stay away from me." Blair snapped. She threw the box on the ground, her eyes flashing with anger. "Wes, are you done with this bullshit—" "Blair!" My dad stepped in front of me, his voice booming. "Watch your language." "You’re soaking wet. Go home, take a shower, and get some rest. It’s late. We won't be inviting you in." My mom stepped up beside him, handing Blair a slice of cake wrapped in a napkin with a polite, frozen smile. "Wes already made his wish. He doesn't need your gift. Take the cake and go." "Get home safe. It’s dangerous for a young girl to be out alone." Blair stood there, stunned. She knew something was wrong. My parents had always adored her. They treated her like a daughter. They never kept her on the porch. She opened her mouth to argue, but the heavy oak door slammed shut in her face. I didn't have much of an appetite. I ate a few bites of cake and went to my room. My dad sat on the edge of my bed. "Wes, are you sure about this?" Fathers know. He knew how much I had worshipped her. I looked down at the white hearing aid in my hand. The one she had customized for me. People change so much. When we first moved to this estate, I used to follow her around like a shadow. "Blair, wait up!" Then came the fire at the factory. I remembered the training my parents gave me. I got out. Blair didn't. I saw the flames licking the sky. I saw her frozen in the window. I didn't think. I just ran back in. I dragged her out. We were almost clear when the secondary tanks blew. The shockwave shattered my eardrums. I woke up in a silent world. My parents were devastated. Her parents were guilty. I became withdrawn. I lay in bed for months. Blair stopped going to school to be with me. She brought me candy I didn't eat. She realized hospitals depressed me, so she snuck me out to the audiologist to get this specific hearing aid. She had painted tiny fish and stalks of rice on it herself. She put it in my ear with clumsy, gentle fingers. "Wes, I’m going to protect you now." "My tutor said the universe is infinite. It never dies. You’re going to be okay, Wes." "Fish only have a seven-second memory, but I don't. I’ll remember. I’ll always keep you safe." Only I remembered that vow. If nine-year-old Wes could hear eighteen-year-old Blair say, I wish you’d just died, he would have broken down. But I had spent nine years being the "deaf kid." I’d grown a thicker skin than she realized. I accepted her change of heart. People grow up. People drift. I saved her life. The Jackson family gave my father’s company a 50% concession on shipping routes for a decade. The debt was paid. We were even. I looked at my dad. "I’m sure." That night, with my dad’s help, I logged into the portal. I declined the offer from NYU. I accepted the offer from Stanford. I thought I’d be awake all night, but I slept like a baby. I woke up at noon to two voice messages on WeChat. From Blair. Her voice tinny through the speaker, cold and commanding: "Wes, if you’re done throwing a tantrum, unblock me. Grow up." "Carter feels terrible about you leaving early. He actually went up to the roof and threatened to jump because he thought he ruined your night. I had to talk him down." "We’re going to Aspen for a ski trip before college starts. I’m bringing him so he can clear his head. Don't be jealous. Honestly, if he hurts himself, it’s kind of your fault." I laughed out loud. Carter? Killing himself? Please. The guy loved himself more than Kanye loved Kanye. He called himself "The King of the Hill." He mocked guys who studied. But he was manipulative. I remembered my friend Miles’ birthday four months ago. Miles had set up a romantic confession for a girl he liked. Carter ruined it. He walked in, loudly asking, "Damn, Miles, you got moves. You practice this on all the girls?"
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