Silent secrets, Burning love

Ariella’s POV The morning sunlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting golden rays that painted our dining room in quiet gold. The scent of coffee lingered in the air, blending with the faint sweetness of the cinnamon rolls I had set on the table—just the way Daniel liked them. We sat across from each other, our legs gently brushing one another underneath the table, our plates half-filled, yet untouched. Last night had been… intense, and I could still feel my body aching from his touches. My v****a was still sore from the stroking I received from Daniel’s huge c**k last night, but one thing in me still wanted more of it. He was leaving this morning for a week-long business trip, and we had both clung to the moment like it might be the last. He held me longer than usual, kissed me slower, and whispered things I couldn’t hear but felt deeply in the way his breath warmed my skin. Three years into my marriage, I’m still waiting to tell Daniel I’m not the broke graphic designer he married. I want to be sure he loves me—not my money. As I sipped from my mug, I noticed Daniel was hunched slightly, eyes locked onto the bright screen of his phone, thumb moving rapidly over the keyboard. The slight furrow between his brows told me he was deeply engaged. Not with me, though. I waited. Counted the seconds. Ten… twenty… Still typing. My fingers curled into a fist before I snapped them open and tapped it against the table to pull his attention back. One of the habits I picked up not after I lost my hearing and my speech—it was my way of saying “I’m here too.” He looked up, blinking as if he had just remembered I was there. “Who is making you lose focus? “I signed, my expression blank but my chest tightening. He gave a sheepish smile and signed back, “My boss…..He’s on my neck, he is stressing me about the trip. Just some last-minute details” I nodded, suppressing the twinge in my gut. Maybe I was overthinking. Just then, our house-help, Mia entered the dining room, her curvy figure wrapped in a simple brown dress. She was young—probably not older than twenty-one—and always moved quietly around me, respectful and careful. We communicated through a notepad most of the time. She walked up and scribbled, “Good morning, ma. I hope you slept well.” I smiled and nodded, about to gesture something in return when she turned to Daniel and spoke things I couldn’t hear—her lips moved too quickly for me to catch. But Daniel chuckled softly, lowering his phone for the first time in twenty minutes. My fingers twitched. What did she say? I signed. He turned to me. “She said she was scared to tell you, but… her mother is sick. She wants to travel to see her while we’re both away. She’ll only be gone for a few days.” I looked at Mia. She lowered her gaze and fidgeted with the edge of her notepad. Somehow, I wasn’t convinced. “Let her go, Since we’ll both be away for a week, she’ll leave for a few days too. She promised to be back before we return.” he added. “I already gave her permission.” I said nothing. Just a short nod as I chew my meal slowly. ********* Daniel spent the next hour packing his bags, making calls, pacing the bedroom in a rush of pre-trip anxiety. I, on the other hand, was preparing for something he didn’t know about—my surgery. A groundbreaking new procedure that could potentially restore my speech and hearing. I hadn’t told Daniel yet. I planned to wait until I got back, until I was sure it worked just so I can surprise him. A few hours later Daniel left, he kissed me goodbye and signed how much he will miss me. The house-help quietly packed a few of her things and left too. She said goodbye with a written note and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The house felt quite empty and silent after they both left, which made me start wondering if my surgery will go well or I might remain deaf and dumb forever. I wasn’t born deaf. It was an accident—one I still relive in nightmares. I was twelve, in the backseat while my parents argued up front. One swerve, one red light, one truck that didn’t stop. I woke up to blood, to shattered glass… and silence. They were gone. Both of them. I couldn’t scream. Couldn’t cry loud enough to make it matter. The silence that followed wasn’t just physical—it was emotional. I spiraled for years in depression, isolation, anger… until I met Daniel. He was the light in a tunnel I never thought I’d escape. He learned my language—sign language. He kissed my scars. He held me when I couldn’t hold myself. And now, for the first time in years… I had hope. The surgery could change everything. And I couldn’t wait to hear his voice and say his name. While I was lost in my thoughts, my phone buzzed against the kitchen counter, the screen lighting up with an incoming video call. It was Chloe. My best friend. I hesitated for a second, wiping my damp palms on the kitchen towel before answering. Her face popped up instantly—dramatic lashes, oversized sunglasses pushed up into her curls, and a heavy sigh escaping her lips. She held up a handwritten note to the camera, large bold letters scrawled across it: “Check your messages, missy. I’ve been waiting!” I frowned and tapped into my phone, quickly finding her earlier text: “Café Venti. Our spot. I’ve been here 15 mins, don’t ghost me” Oh crap. I responded with a thumbs up and signed, I’m on my way, even though I knew she wouldn’t understand it. I followed it up with a typed message instead: “Give me 10 mins. I’ll be right there.” She grinned and blew me a kiss through the screen before ending the call. Less than twenty minutes later, I arrived at the café. Chloe was already nestled into our usual booth by the window, her phone in one hand, a pastry in the other, and two drinks on the table. She beamed the moment she saw me and pushed one of the drinks toward my seat. As I slid into the booth across from her, she typed something quickly on her phone and tilted it toward me. “Took you long enough. I thought you were standing me up again” I laughed silently and typed back on my own phone: “I forgot to check my messages. Sorry. Something came up at home.” “It better be a hot emergency, because I’ve got TEA. Like, actual burning, steaming, inappropriate tea,” she typed, her eyebrows dancing dramatically. I sipped the iced mocha she had ordered for me and gave her the look that said Okay, spill. She grinned and typed with rapid thumbs: “So… remember the guy I told you about—the gym freak with the arms and the ridiculous jawline?” I nodded slowly. There had been at least three of those in the past six months. She rolled her eyes and typed again: “HE asked me for a threesome this weekend… with someone I don’t even know yet. Like… what the actual f**k, that’s wild?!” My eyes widened as I leaned in. “What did you say?” I typed. She glanced around the café like someone might be listening, even though we were just typing back and forth on our phones. “I haven’t said yes or no… but honestly?” she typed again, then paused for dramatic effect before continuing. “I think it’s a yes for me.” I raised my brow. “Really?” She nodded, grinning. “I mean… I’m not a prude. I’ve always been open to exploring, you know that. Sharing doesn’t bother me like it does most people.” “You said you didn’t even know the person he wanted to bring in.” I reminded her with another message. “True… but he said it was someone he used to hook up with. No strings. Just fun. And I trust him—well, kind of. He knows my fantasies. We talk about everything. And…” Another message popped up a second later: “It’s not my first time.” “You’ve done it before?” I typed quickly. “Yep.” she replied. “Back in college, four years ago. A guy and another girl. We were all drunk and it just… happened. And I loved it. No jealousy, no drama. Just hot fun. Since then, I’ve craved doing it again—but this time more intentionally.” I sat back, watching her face light up like she’d just found her favorite lipstick on sale. “But Chloe… you said he’s married?” I typed with a look of concern. She sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but i can’t let those c**k go yunno and i can’t stop thinking about him, f**k! even by talking about him make me drip below.” “And one more thing that makes it interesting is……We will be having it at his place as his wife will be out of town so lots of fun!” I tilted my head skeptically. “That sounds messy.” “I know it does. But Ari… you know me. I’m built for messy sometimes.” She grinned wide, completely unbothered. “Besides, this time it feels different. And the idea of being watched while I’m being touched… ugh, don’t judge me, okay? I’m saying yes. It’s a yes for me.” I typed back, half-laughing, half-sighing: “I should’ve known. You’re chaos with a pretty face.” She winked and typed: “And you love me for it.” I did. Even if her love life was a series of red flags waving like a parade, Chloe always managed to be honest and fearless in her choices. Maybe that’s what I admired most. I shook my head with a tiny smile, but the ache in my chest returned as I sat across from her, reading her bubbly messages while hiding a thousand layers underneath my skin. Chloe didn’t know what this meeting really was for me—a pause before a storm. A distraction before I walked into that clinic, holding onto hope like a lifeline. She didn’t know about my surgery or even my financial status. She didn’t even know that three years ago, I faked being someone else just to see if someone like Daniel would love me for me—not the heiress or the legacy I left behind. And maybe that made me a liar. But it also made me feel… safe. At least for now. ******* As the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the pavement, I walked home in silence, my thoughts a whirlwind of Chloe’s chaotic love life, Daniel’s distracted eyes, and the weight of the secret surgery ahead. But all of that vanished the second I turned the corner onto our quiet street—and saw the front door. It was cracked open. No, not cracked. Broken. Splintered wood jagged around the lock, as if someone had kicked it in. My heart stopped. I froze on the spot, pulse thudding so loud it echoed in my ears like a warning siren. The door swung slightly in the wind, creaking with every gentle push like it was whispering go back. I took a step closer, my fingers trembling as I clutched my phone. I didn’t hear anything. No footsteps. No voices. Just silence—deafening, eerie silence. I pushed the door wider and stepped in. The living room was a mess. Drawers yanked open. Cushions tossed. Frames shattered on the floor. Someone had been here. Someone was looking for something. I moved cautiously, trying to stay quiet even though I couldn’t hear a thing. The air was thick with tension, and my instincts screamed that whoever had done this might still be here. Then I saw it—on the floor near the fireplace. A boot print. Fresh. Muddy. And wet. Someone had broken into my house. And they might still be inside.