Eight years ago, I lost the hearing in my right ear at a music festival. The person behind the “accident” was Chloe, my best friend. She was also the childhood sweetheart Ethan had protected since they were toddlers. After the accident, Ethan deleted all of Chloe’s contact info. He locked his piano and swore he would never play again. He never opened a single apology letter she sent. When she was banned from the music industry and fled the country, he didn’t say a single word to defend her. Since then, Ethan stayed by my side. He helped me learn lip-reading and supported me as I adapted to a world with only half its sound. I always thought he did it out of love. I thought he truly cherished me. Until the year Chloe made her comeback. She wanted to hold a solo piano concert and begged Ethan to be her special guest. I declined on Ethan’s behalf. I told her, “He hasn’t played in years. There’s no need for him to get back on stage just for you.” But Ethan suddenly laughed. As he laughed, his eyes grew red. “It’s been eight years, Summer.” “I haven’t seen her, I haven’t comforted her, and I haven’t spent a single birthday with her.” “Because of you, she’s been hiding abroad for eight years, too scared to even come home.” “You only lost the hearing in one ear.” “But she lost me.” The hearing aid in my hand slipped and crashed onto the floor. But he didn’t even blink. “I’m about to marry you. Why can’t you just let her go?” “Do you really need her to die alone in some foreign country to be satisfied?” My world was already missing half of its sound. At that moment, even the remaining half went completely dead silent. It turned out that all these years, he didn’t avoid the piano because he cared about my ears. It was because every time he touched the keys, he would think of Chloe. That night, I signed the concert contract and mailed it to Chloe’s studio. Then, I booked a one-way flight out of the country. From now on.His music, his childhood sweetheart, and his belated pity had nothing to do with me anymore.
After mailing the contract, I didn’t go home. Instead, I went to the old recording studio registered under Ethan’s name. That was the place where he had proposed to me. Eight years ago, after I lost my hearing at that music festival, he locked this place up himself and said he would never touch the piano again. He said he was afraid that the sound of music would trigger my trauma. I believed him for eight years. But when the studio manager saw me, he didn’t look surprised at all. He familiarly greeted me, “Mrs. Miller.” My fingertips froze. The manager smiled and opened the door for me. “Mr. Miller hasn’t arrived yet. Would you like to wait inside? He comes here on the fifteenth of every month and records for the whole night.” The fifteenth of every month. The hearing aid behind my ear suddenly buzzed. The tiny static electricity made my right ear throb with pain. I pushed open the innermost music room. The piano was dusted and polished perfectly. The walls were covered with the setlist for Chloe’s comeback concert. The opening piece was titled The Return. I stared at those words for a long time. That was the piece Ethan had promised to play for me at our wedding eight years ago. He had said that once my ear recovered, he would play it for me. But my ear never recovered. And that song was never played. Yet now, it was the opening song for Chloe’s comeback concert. On the table sat a pair of custom in-ear monitors. Next to them was a tuning log. Chloe’s right ear is sensitive to high frequencies. Needs individual adjustment. Looking at those words, I suddenly wanted to laugh. My right ear had been deaf for eight years. My cheap, old hearing aid had been malfunctioning and leaking static shock for three years. I had asked Ethan if we could replace it with a better one. He told me that weddings were expensive, and asked me to just bear with it a little longer. But he remembered that Chloe’s right ear was sensitive. He remembered she hated high frequencies. He remembered to customize the most comfortable ear monitor for her. The computer next to it was still on. A folder was open on the screen. It contained hundreds of audio files. The file names were simple. For Chloe’s Insomnia. Slow Tempo for Chloe’s Birthday. Don’t Be Scared for Chloe’s Comeback. I clicked on one of the files. The moment the piano music flowed out, my right ear felt like it was being pierced by a needle. I instinctively turned down the volume of my hearing aid. At the end of the recording, Ethan’s voice was incredibly soft and low. “Don’t be scared, Chloe. I’m always here.” I glanced at the recording date. It was my birthday. That day, my ear canal had become severely inflamed from the old hearing aid. The pain kept me awake all night. I called Ethan. He told me he was in an important board meeting and told me to just take some painkillers. So, he wasn’t in a meeting. He was here, recording a soothing birthday song for Chloe. Suddenly, footsteps came from the doorway. Ethan rushed in. Seeing me standing in the cold room, his face instantly paled. He took off his coat and draped it over my shoulders. When his hand brushed against my red, inflamed ear, he visibly stiffened. At that moment, I ridiculously thought he was feeling sorry for me. The next second, his eyes fell on the recording list on the screen. He immediately pushed past me and slammed the laptop shut. I stared at his back. “I thought you said you hadn’t touched a piano in eight years?” Ethan remained silent for a long time. “I just didn’t want you to hear it.” “Were you trying to save me from feeling sad,” I asked, “or were you just trying to hide the fact that you’ve been playing for her this entire time?” His Adam’s apple bobbed, but he said nothing. I asked again, “On my birthday, you told me you were in a meeting. Were you?” His eyes grew red. “Chloe had a mental breakdown that day. She said she couldn’t take it anymore.” I nodded slowly. “So my pain is something I can just ‘bear with.’” “But her crying is an absolute emergency.” He panicked, “Summer, it’s not like that.” Just then, his phone rang. Chloe’s voice leaked through the speaker. “Ethan, there’s something wrong with the speakers in the rehearsal hall. I can’t hear my own piano.” Ethan’s hand was still on my shoulder. He gripped me tightly for a split second. But in the end, he let go. “Summer, I need to check on this first. I’ll explain everything when I get back.” He grabbed the custom ear monitors. And he took the sheet music for The Return. I stood alone in the empty, silent room. Suddenly, I understood. The thing he had locked away wasn’t the piano. It was the door for me to enter his world.
After packing my bags, I went to the hospital where I used to do my hearing rehabilitation. The doctor recognized me. His first words were, “Why did you never come back for the second-stage cochlear implant surgery?” I froze. “Ethan said the risk was too high. The success rate was less than thirty percent.” The doctor frowned. He pulled up my old medical records. The lines of text popped up on the screen. Auditory nerve damage is not completely dead. Surgery within three months offers a seventy percent chance of recovery. The surgery cost was $70,000. The person who authorized the payment: Ethan Miller. Looking at the receipt, my heart squeezed painfully. He really did want to save my hearing once. But that warmth only lasted for a few seconds. On the next page was the cancellation form. The signature at the bottom: Ethan Miller. The date of cancellation was the exact day before Chloe was about to be sued by the Music Association. The reason for cancellation read: Patient is emotionally unstable and has chosen to give up the surgery. I stared at the words “chosen to give up.” The static noise in my right ear suddenly became incredibly sharp and piercing. I had never even known this surgery existed. That year, Ethan had held me in his arms, crying and telling me his company’s cash flow had dried up. He said if I insisted on the treatment, it might ruin his startup project. I didn’t want to be a burden to him. So I comforted him instead. I told him I didn’t need it. I told him having one working ear was enough. The doctor sighed. “The hospital tried to contact your family multiple times back then. Mr. Miller kept telling us that you refused to go through with it because you couldn’t take any more stress.” I left the hospital with a copy of the records. My phone buzzed with an Instagram notification about Chloe’s comeback press conference. The headline was eye-catching: Returning After Eight Years, Still Ready to Embrace the Music. I suddenly wanted to know. Where did my $70,000 actually go? I rushed to the backstage of the press conference. Before I could even enter the dressing room, I heard Chloe’s sobbing voice from inside. “Ethan, if you hadn’t paid that $70,000 penalty fee for me back then, would I have been sued and forced out of the industry forever?” Ethan’s voice was low and quiet. “It’s in the past.” Chloe asked again, “But that money… was supposed to be for her ear surgery, wasn’t it?” The room fell dead silent. Ethan didn’t deny it. He said, “She had already lost hearing in that ear anyway. But if you were sued, your entire life would have been ruined.” “I can make it up to her slowly.” “But back then, Chloe, you only had me.” Standing outside the door, even my breathing felt heavy. So he wasn’t broke. He had just taken my surgery money to buy Chloe a fresh start. I pushed the door open. Chloe’s eyes were bright red, looking as though I had just violated her sacred peace. When Ethan saw me, the color completely drained from his face. I threw the medical bills and the cancellation form right in front of him. “$70,000.” “You didn’t lack the money back then.” “You gave me hope, and then you personally snatched it away.” Ethan opened his mouth, but not a single word came out. Chloe cried out, “I didn’t know that was her surgery money!” Ethan immediately turned to look at her, his eyes filled with reassurance. Looking at his reaction, the last spark of warmth in my chest died. I looked at him and asked, “What about me, Ethan?” “What does my ear mean to you?” Ethan’s voice was hoarse. “I’m sorry, Summer.” “I will find you the best doctor in the world. I promise.” I laughed. “The golden window for recovery passed years ago.” “Just like my love for you. It expired long ago.” Chloe suddenly clutched her chest, claiming she couldn’t breathe. Ethan instinctively reached out to support her. The hand he had extended toward me froze mid-air. Ultimately, it landed on Chloe’s shoulder. I didn’t wait for his explanation. I walked out of the backstage, opened my phone, and rescheduled my flight to three days later.
On the day of Chloe’s comeback showcase, I received an address from Ethan’s assistant. He said my original copy of the concert contract was at the venue and needed to be signed in person. But when I arrived, I realized the entrance was swarming with media. On the sign-in board, my name was printed under the “Special Reconciliation Guest” section. I turned to leave. But a staff member blocked my way. “Miss Summer, Mr. Miller has already approved the schedule.” I looked at the schedule sheet. Summer takes the stage to sign the reconciliation agreement regarding the accident eight years ago. So, he had even planned my silence in advance. Backstage, Chloe was wearing a beautiful white dress, crying in front of the cameras. She claimed she had carried an unjust reputation for eight years and had finally waited for this day of justice. Ethan stood right behind her. He whispered, “Don’t be scared.” Chloe was wearing those custom ear monitors. But my cheap, old hearing aid was buzzing painfully in the chaotic noise of the venue. When Ethan spotted me, panic flashed in his eyes, and he walked over. But Chloe spoke first. “Summer, do you still refuse to forgive me?” In an instant, all the cameras turned to me. The host handed a document to me. It read: The accident eight years ago was due to equipment malfunction and had nothing to do with Chloe. I looked at Ethan. He avoided my gaze. “It’s just a formality, Summer.” “She worked so hard to come back. We can’t let the past ruin her again.” I asked him, “Then what about my ruined right ear?” He went silent. The loud murmurs of the crowd and the flashing cameras made my ear throb with intense pain. I suddenly remembered the security footage I had retrieved last night. The day before the festival eight years ago, my custom ear monitor had mysteriously gone missing. Ethan had customized it for me. He said my ears were sensitive and standard monitors would hurt me. I had been frantically searching for it backstage. Then, Chloe had walked over with a backup ear monitor. She had smiled and said, “Use this one first, otherwise Ethan’s performance will be wasted.” I had hesitated. But when Ethan rushed over, he only glanced at it briefly. He said, “Chloe is just trying to help. Get on stage first.” So, I wore it. Before I could even sing the first line, a deafening explosion of sound blasted directly into my right ear. High pitches, static feedback, and distorted noise tore through my eardrum all at once. I fell straight off the rising stage. Blood poured from my ear. I grabbed Ethan’s hand, telling him something was wrong with the monitor. His face changed. Because he saw Chloe standing in the corner. Clutched in her hand was my original custom ear monitor. She was crying, saying, “I just wanted to see what your custom monitor felt like. I didn’t know this would happen.” Ethan had clearly seen it. He knew exactly who had handed me that dangerous backup monitor. But he had turned around and shielded Chloe anyway. He said, “Let’s not make a scene out of this first.” The staff wanted to call the police. But Ethan stopped them. “She didn’t do it on purpose. A criminal record would destroy a young girl’s life.” Later, he stayed by my hospital bed. He cleaned my wounds, brought me water, and helped me practice lip-reading. I thought he finally cherished me. Until I saw that footage. In the video, Chloe had hidden my monitor in her bag. Right after the accident, Ethan had immediately taken her bag away. He told the media he was just protecting her from reporters. He didn’t miss the truth. He had simply decided, earlier than anyone else, to bury the truth for her. And now, he was pushing this reconciliation agreement in front of my face. I didn’t take the pen. Instead, right in front of all the cameras, I tore the agreement in half. The entire venue fell into dead silence. Chloe’s face turned paper-white. Tears streamed down her face. She claimed that if we didn’t reconcile today, her solo concert tomorrow would be canceled. She said she had waited eight years and couldn’t lose her stage. Ethan finally panicked. He grabbed my wrist, his voice dropping to a low, desperate whisper. “Summer, don’t make a scene here.” “You can hit me or yell at me all you want once we get home.” “Just help her this once, and I will do whatever you want in the future.” I looked at him and asked, “Is that what you thought eight years ago too?” “Protect her first, and comfort me later.” His eyes turned red instantly. But his grip on my wrist didn’t loosen. Right at that moment, a technician near the stage screamed in panic. The sound system briefly went out of control. A sharp, deafening high-frequency squeal blasted through the speakers. My right ear was hit with an explosive, agonizing pain. It felt as though the wound from eight years ago had been violently ripped open again. My vision went black, and I had to grab the microphone stand to keep from falling. When my fingers touched my ear, they came away wet with hot, fresh blood. Ethan saw it. His face turned instantly pale. He took a step toward me. For a brief, ridiculous second, a tiny spark of hope flickered in my chest. Would he choose me first this time? But Chloe screamed. “Ethan, my hand!” She had knocked over a music stand near the piano, cutting a line of blood onto her right hand. She sobbed hysterically, “Ethan, my hand is bleeding!” Ethan’s steps froze.
The high-frequency noise hadn’t completely stopped. I leaned heavily against the microphone stand as blood trickled down my neck. Ethan stared at me. For the first time, true terror flashed in his eyes. He took another step toward me. But Chloe’s cries rang out again. “Ethan, it hurts so much! Tomorrow is my concert, I can’t be ruined!” The venue fell into complete chaos. Reporters pushed forward frantically, flashing their cameras. People called for doctors; others called for security. Someone shoved a microphone right in front of my face, asking if I had intentionally caused this chaos to ruin Chloe’s comeback. I couldn’t hear them. My right ear was filled with nothing but a sharp, endless ringing. The venue’s first-aid doctor rushed over. He looked at Ethan and asked urgently, “Who do I treat first?” Ethan stood right between Chloe and me. I looked at him. Chloe clutched his sleeve, trembling and crying. “Ethan, I’m a pianist. My hands are my life.” Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Finally, he spoke. “Check her hand first.” The moment those words left his mouth. The last thread of hope in my heart snapped. The doctor immediately turned to Chloe. Ethan pulled her into his arms, applying pressure to the cut on her wrist. I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. I collapsed onto the floor. My old hearing aid slipped off and was instantly crushed under the shoes of the rushing reporters. The agonizing squeal in my head abruptly died. My world became completely, utterly silent. Someone stepped on the back of my hand. Someone was shouting, accusing me of driving Chloe to self-harm. Someone said I was a monster for not letting her go after eight years. Ethan turned and saw me covered in blood. His face was white as a ghost. He tried to come over. But Chloe held onto his collar tightly. “Ethan, my fingers are numb. Will I never be able to play again?” Ethan froze. In the end, he didn’t let go of her. As he passed by me, his footsteps paused for a fraction of a second. “I’ll have my assistant take you to the hospital.” I looked up at him. He avoided my eyes. Chloe buried her face in his chest. He added, “She’s a pianist. Her hands can’t have any scars.” I suddenly smiled. Eight years ago, my ear was on the line. But he chose to protect her reputation. Eight years later, my ear was bleeding again. But he chose to protect her hand. When the ambulance arrived, they took Chloe first. Ethan got in with her. Before the door closed, he turned and called my name. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t hear him anyway. And I didn’t want to. Another ambulance brought me to the hospital. When I woke up, the room smelled heavily of disinfectant. My right ear was wrapped in thick gauze. On the bedside table lay the crushed pieces of my hearing aid. The nurse told me my ear canal was bleeding and I needed to stay for observation. She also mentioned that a Mr. Miller had called dozens of times, asking if I was awake. I didn’t call back. I reached for my phone and emailed the digital copy of our separation agreement to my lawyer. Then, I called the airline and changed my flight from tomorrow morning to tonight. I changed out of the hospital gown. I slipped off the engagement ring. I put the ring and the broken pieces of the hearing aid into an envelope. On the front, I wrote: To Ethan. Half an hour later, Ethan rushed to the hospital. He ran to the nurse’s station. “Where is Summer’s room?” The nurse handed him the envelope. “Miss Summer has already checked out.” “She said… not to look for her.”
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