06
Dillon’s face drained of color. Memories from the previous day flooded his mind–what he and Remy had said in
front of me and what he had told his subordinate at my ward.
His chest tightened and for the first time, panic flickered in his eyes. He grabbed Nathan by the shoulders, his
grip almost desperate.
“Her hearing recovered–why didn’t you tell me?”
Nathan hesitated, startled by Dillon’s intensity. “She wanted to surprise you,” he admitted. “She asked me not to say anything. The first thing she did when she regained her hearing was go to find you so she could tell you herself.
Didn’t she?”
The realization hit Dillon like a physical blow. Without another word, he released Nathan and turned, sprinting
toward the exit.
“Dillon!” Alyssa called after him, her voice tinged with alarm. “Where are you going?”
But this time, Dillon didn’t stop for her. He didn’t even glance back.
When Alyssa reached out to grab his arm, he shoved her aside without hesitation. She stumbled, her heels
catching on the carpet and fell to the ground. Her fragile, tear–streaked face drew sympathetic murmurs from the
bystanders.
But Dillon didn’t notice. He didn’t care.
He climbed into his car, the engine roaring to life and sped off into the night without a second thought.
Alyssa stood frozen, watching Dillon’s car disappear into the distance. Her hands clenched into fists at her
sides, her nails digging into her palms. The fury in her chest burned hotter with every passing second.
She had never seen him so frantic, so desperate–especially not for someone other than her. The realizati
twisted her features into a dark scowl.
11-40-1
***
Meanwhile, Dillon’s car tore through the streets, his foot heavy on the gas pedal. The world outside the window blurred, but all he could see was the hospital room ahead. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.
The closer he got, the more his chest constricted, as though the distance between him and the hospital shrank physically but widened emotionally.
His mind raced with worst–case scenarios. Had he been too cold? Too blind? Did he push it too far?
By the time he reached the hospital, his heart pounded like a war drum. He threw open the car door without even
bothering to lock it and sprinted inside, his breaths ragged and uneven.
“Mial Honey!” he shouted, not caring about the curious glances from passing nurses and patients,
When he reached the room, he didn’t hesitate. His hand slammed against the door, pushing it open with a force
that sent it crashing against the wall.
But what greeted him wasn’t my fragile frame or my gentle smile–it was emptiness,
The room was eerily quiet. The crisp hospital sheets were neatly folded, the bedside table bare save for a single document lying in the center of the bed.
Dillon’s breath hitched and an ominous chill ran down his spine, Slowly, he stepped inside, his gaze fixed on the paper. Every step felt like walking through quicksand,
When he finally reached the bed, he picked up the document with trembling hands. His eyes scanned the title at the top:
[DIVORCE AGREEMENT]
The words struck him like a physical blow. His hands shook violently as he flipped through the pages, each line of legal jargon only amplifying the weight pressing against his chest. Then he saw it–my signature, bold and final, on the last page.
For a moment, he simply stood there, frozen. The paper slipped from his hands and fluttered to the floor like a
dead leaf.
“No…” The word escaped his lips as a broken whisper before escalating into a roar of anguish. “NO!”
In a frenzy, he dropped to his knees and gathered the divorce papers, tearing them to shreds with wild, uncoordinated movements. The pieces scattered around him like snow, but even that couldn’t case the suffocating panic building inside.
His hands fumbled for his phone. He dialed my number, each ring stretching into eternity. But the call didn’t connect. Instead, a cold, mechanical voice informed him: “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”
Blocked,
He tried messaging me, his fingers typing frantically. When he hit send, all he received in return was a glaring red
exclamation mark.
The finality of it all hit him like a tidal wave. His phone slipped from his grip, landing on the tiled floor with a
hollow thud.
Dillon’s breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving as a wave of desperation and regret washed over him. ‘She left me. She really left me.‘
***
Desperation morphed into determination, Dillon summoned his staff, barking orders for them to search every corner of the city. His voice cracked as he demanded updates, but each report came back the same: no leads.
He called my parents, hoping they might know something–anything. But their indifference was a slap to the
face.
“She’s just a deaf girl,” my mother said dismissively, “Why do you even care? She’s probably just throwing another tantrum. She’ll come crawling back like she always does.”
Her father’s voice was colder. “Whether she lives or dies has nothing to do with us. We only recognize Alyssa as our daughter. Don’t waste your time with this nonsense.”
Dillon ended the call abruptly, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He stared at his phone for a long moment before making his next move: a missing person report.
The days that followed were a living hell. For seven nights, Dillon barely ate, drank, or slept. His once–sharp features grew hollow, his eyes bloodshot from sleeplessness and tears he wouldn’t admit to shedding.
The realization struck him like a freight train. For years, he had convinced himself that I didn’t matter to him–that
Scars and Lies
his heart belonged to Alyssa, But the emptiness I left behind was unbearable, gnawing at him with every passing
second.
He had lost me. And for the first time, he admitted to himself that he couldn’t live without me.
***
Just then, his phone rang. The shrill sound jolted him from his despair. He glanced at the screen: [Alyssa.]
A fresh wave of anger surged through him as he remembered everything that had led to this moment.
He answered the call, his voice sharp and cold. “What?”
Alyssa’s soft, sweet tone poured through the receiver. “Dillon, I don’t feel well… Can you take me to the hospital?”
In the past, her words would have sent him rushing to her side. But now, they grated on his nerves like nails on a
chalkboard.
His patience snapped. “Alyssa, don’t you have a husband?” he barked. “Why do you always come to me? Is he just a decoration to you? If not, go to your damn parents! Why the hell do you keep bothering me?”
His voice rose with every word, the pent–up frustration of the past week boiling over. “My wife left me because of
you! If you dare call me again, I swear–I won’t let this go!”
Alyssa’s breath hitched audibly. She had never heard him speak to her like this. For a moment, she was too
stunned to respond.
The humiliation stung like a whip. She clenched the phone tightly, her blood boiling. How dare he?
But Dillon had already hung up, leaving her seething in