The Mute Wife of the Billionaire

Part 2

“Hah!” Lysander exclaimed, his face drenched in sweat. He sat up abruptly from his sleep. Once again, the incident transformed into the worst nightmare of his life.

Adelia's sorrowful gaze lingered on his departure, a sight he could see in the car's rearview mirror before her body was swept away by that car, a memory that echoed clearly in his mind.

The man's body trembled violently. His heart raced and felt constricted, filling him with an overwhelming anxiety with every breath he took. It hurt! His soul ached intensely! Tormented by the guilt that choked him so tightly that it felt like Lysander couldn’t take it anymore, he clutched his scalp, which throbbed as if it had been struck by a heavy hammer.

That incident had happened long ago, but it still felt as if it had just occurred every time that nightmare replayed. Lysander scanned the room and pulled open the drawer of the nightstand next to his bed. With trembling hands, he took the medicine box that was always there. He extracted a pill and swallowed it quickly. A full glass of water was downed in one go, his body drenched in sweat.

It took half an hour for him to feel better. Lysander glanced at his clock, which read one a.m.

“I dreamed of it again!” Lysander clenched his head again, shouting at his phone, tormented by his current state. Since that incident, he had never been able to sleep soundly. It was as if the guilt was gnawing at his flesh and bones.

“Try to calm down. Breathe like I’ve always taught you. Let’s meet tomorrow,” the voice on the other end sounded like someone just waking up. Lately, Lysander couldn’t allow himself to sleep peacefully either.

Lysander pursed his lips, reluctant. But he couldn’t force it. There was no way to compel his psychiatrist to come to him right now.

“Fine. Come to my office tomorrow morning.” Lysander hung up without waiting for a response.

He tried to lie back down, but until the sunlight broke through the curtains of his luxurious room, Lysander could no longer close his eyes.

A woman quickly squatted in front of a boy about six years old. Her nimble hands fastened the buttons of the white uniform the boy was wearing one by one. Soon, her hands began to move in the air, forming gestures typical of sign language.

“Have you had breakfast?” she asked with her hands and her mouth perfectly closed. She gave a gentle gaze to the boy, who only stared at her blankly.

“Already,” the boy replied, nodding his head and using hand gestures.

The woman stood up and looked at the glass plate in their small shelter, which they called home. There were no partitions separating the kitchen, dining area, or even the sleeping space. Fortunately, there was a partition for the bathroom, so they didn’t have to go outside and wait just to bathe like they did in their previous place.

“Why did you leave half of your bread?” she asked, her hand movements graceful yet firm, noting the half of the loaf that had been cut.

“I’m full,” the boy answered casually, then walked towards his bed, which was just a thin mat. He sat cross-legged, his face a bit gloomy, trying to distance himself so the woman wouldn’t hear his stomach, which was still empty after only having half a piece of bread. But he didn’t want to be selfish, saving a little for her, knowing she needed food too.

The woman took a slow breath and picked up the glass plate. She walked gently and stroked the boy’s dark, straight hair, which felt soft and slightly damp from his recent bath. Then she squatted down and offered him the food again.

“Today is your exam. You don’t need to share your food with me. I’ll get food from my workplace later,” she explained through her gestures, ignoring the pain in her stomach, which was slowly fading. It was too empty, having not been filled since last night. She offered a sweet smile to mask her feelings.

The boy's round eyes, which made his face quite cute, gazed intently at the woman’s smile. His eyes shifted slightly toward the plate, which held only the cold, hard bread. But that was all they had for now, and for the little boy, being able to have breakfast was already something to be grateful for.

His small hands reached for the rough-textured bread. Seeing this, a smile slipped from the woman’s lips as she stood up and walked to the only old wooden table in their cramped home. She began placing some books and the boy’s necessities on it before everything stopped when she felt a small tug at her only black skirt, something she had bought by sacrificing several days' worth of meals at the thrift store.

The woman turned to look behind her, finding the little boy gazing at her with a wistful expression.

“Can I not go to school anymore?” Those words came through his hand movements. His beautiful round eyes seemed to glisten with unshed tears, making the woman furrow her brow. But she didn’t answer immediately; she just took a slow breath.

“Why don’t you want to go to school?” she asked, using her sign language. This question filled the room with silence every day.

“Because... I can help you work. I’m strong enough now,” the little boy explained.

In truth, he could no longer bear going to school. It wasn't because he couldn't learn or because he was lazy. The school environment was simply too stressful for him. Many children bullied him for being poor, saying he was forcing himself to go to school. Only the woman’s determination had allowed him to withstand the punches and taunts that damaged his body and spirit. Her hard work to ensure he could go to school made him too afraid to express his feelings all this time.

The woman smiled sweetly, as if just seeing her smile could melt anyone’s heart. “No. Help me by going to school.”

“They’re asking for exam fees again. We don’t have any money left. It’s better to use that money for food.”

“No. Today I’m going to work. You know the big building we saw? I’ll be working there. After that, we can pay for your school, and maybe we can move away from here. So, hang in there; you are my only hope, understand?” She said this with a hopeful and serious expression that the boy didn’t dare contradict. “I will make our lives better. I promise you.”

The boy pouted, his lips quivering slightly, as if holding back tears. He understood how hard life was, even at his young age. He wasn’t complaining; he just couldn’t bear to see the woman who had taken care of him since he was little bearing such a heavy burden. Even though he was only six, he knew how exhausting her work was. She worked at anything as long as it was honest. Over time, her body had grown frailer. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. Jojo had no memory of it at all.

“Come on, we have to go now,” the woman urged, shaking her hand.

“I’ll go by myself. You don’t need to take me. The building is in the opposite direction from you, right? I’m a big boy now!” Finally, a small voice filled the room.

Lula furrowed her brow, smiling as she watched Jojo trying to show that he was no longer a child. “Alright, I’m leaving now. Don’t forget to lock the door and say hello to Aunt Ming for me. I’ll be home after everything’s done.” The woman ended her gestures by pinching the boy’s cheek, which he nodded at slowly while finishing the last of his hard bread.

Lula stepped out of what could hardly be called a home. It was a building provided by the government for the homeless, meant to keep them off the streets. The shabby building, crowded with people, littered with trash, and teeming with rats was a common sight for them. Even the exit corridors were often filled with people lying around because they had nowhere else to go. Thankfully, she was grateful that at least she and Jojo still had a place to stay.

Today was her first day of work. She finally had a steady job. For a woman who couldn’t utter a word, Lula felt lucky to have secured a cleaning service position in that skyscraper, a place everyone aspired to work in.

She brushed off the chill creeping through her thin skin, wrapping her arms around herself as she waited at the nearest bus stop from what she called home. She looked around, still wrapped in the morning’s embrace, making the place feel eerily quiet.

“Oh, right. I forgot there’s a fare increase today, isn’t there?” The voices of two elderly women behind Lula made her pout slightly. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a few small coins, the only money she had.

Taking a deep breath, Lula realized that if she spent all this money on the bus fare, she might not be able to buy dinner for Jojo. She bit her lip, her beautiful eyes scanning her surroundings with a deep furrow on her brow. It seemed she had to start moving now. If she walked to that place right away, she might still make it on time.

Lula quickly set off, occasionally breaking into a light run, ignoring her growling stomach, which was empty except for air.

Yes! Ten kilometers. She felt she could manage to cover that distance.