The Deception

Barry Roosevelt and I both lived in a world of silence.
His, the result of a car accident that shattered his world and drove him to the edge of suicide.
We met on the hospital rooftop. We fell in love there. And together, we weathered five years of a world filled with malice.
He signed to me once, his hands firm and deliberate: Barry Roosevelt will always be true to Rowan.
Then came the second accident.
By some miracle, the crash restored what the first one had taken. He could hear, he could speak. He became a rising star in the city’s elite circle. And still, he told me his promise was forever.
But at his birthday party, thinking I was still locked in my silent world, he finally spoke his heart to a friend.
“She saw me at my absolute worst. And she’s deaf… frankly, it’s embarrassing to take her out.”
“I’d rather she just disappeared. That way, I could remember her fondly forever.”
But he didn’t know the truth—
To give him the will to live, I had been pretending to be deaf for five long years.

1
The night of his birthday party, Barry introduced me to all his old friends.
Knowing I couldn't hear, he took the time to teach them a few basic signs, just so they could look me in the eye and gesture, “Good to meet you.”
I felt a blush creep up my neck, clutching my glass of juice and sitting obediently by his side. But my mind was racing, trying to find the perfect moment to finally tell him my secret.
It would be my thirtieth birthday gift to him.
Barry was in his element, throwing back drink after drink, a grin plastered on his face that he couldn’t have wiped off if he tried. He moved through the crowd, laughing with friends, getting dragged into a rowdy karaoke song.
The party was alive, and I was genuinely happy for him.
He was born to be a golden boy, a man without flaws. Now that he was whole again, a coveted new player in the city’s high society, the old looks of pity and scorn had transformed into awe and envy.
My Barry was finally reborn.
I watched him, timing the rhythm of the party. When he finally collapsed onto the sofa next to me, flushed and breathless from the celebration, I gently tugged on his sleeve.
He turned, his smile soft and indulgent, and began to sign.
“Rowan, are you tired?”
I shook my head, signing back, “I have something to tell you. It’s important!”
Barry nodded, about to take my hand and lead me out of the private room, but one of his friends threw an arm over his shoulder.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going? The night’s still young!”
The guy wasn’t letting go.
Barry pointed to me, and then, remembering I supposedly couldn't hear, he spoke and signed simultaneously.
“Rowan has something to tell me. I’m just stepping out with her for a minute.”
I glanced from him to the rest of the room. Everyone was still riding the high of the party. I thought for a moment, then shook my head at Barry.
“It can wait. You’re all finally together. You should enjoy it.”
Seeing my signs, a slow smile spread across Barry’s face. He reached out and ruffled my hair, murmuring aloud, “My Rowan is the sweetest.”
He didn’t sign it.
But it was a simple enough phrase that I could easily read his lips.
His effortless compliments, his public displays of affection—they always made me blush, forcing me to duck my head to hide the heat in my cheeks. And whenever I did, his smile only grew wider.
“Rowan is cutest when she’s shy,” he’d tease.
He loved to do that. He knew his words turned my face crimson, yet he delighted in it, insisting it was when I was most adorable.
His friend next to him seemed intrigued.
“Man, are you really going all in on this pure love thing? Are you seriously planning to marry her?”
Barry leaned back slightly at the question, turning his head so I could only see his profile. I couldn't make out the shape of his lips anymore.
For someone who can’t hear, if you can’t see their lips, the world goes completely silent.
His movement was deliberate. He didn’t want me to understand this conversation. What was he about to say?
More sweet nothings that would make me blush?
My mind raced with possibilities.
Barry paused, considering the question, then answered his friend in earnest.
“Rowan’s a good person. Over the past five years, I fell apart more times than I can count, and she was always there. I’m grateful to her. I love her.”
“But she was born deaf and mute. The kind that can’t be fixed.”
“She also witnessed the absolute lowest point of my life. Every time I see her, every time I have to use sign language, it drags me right back to that hell. To be honest, it’s suffocating.”
“But that’s not even the worst part. The thing is, I’m back on my feet now. The Roosevelt family is making a name for itself again. If word gets out that I married a deaf woman… can you imagine the whispers? The old sharks in the business world would laugh me out of the room.”
“If I’m being honest, I wish she had just vanished after I recovered. If she had, I think I could have cherished her memory forever. The kind you never forget.”
His friend looked stunned, as if he never expected those words to come out of Barry’s mouth. “So… you don’t want to marry her?”
Barry shook his head. “I’ll marry her. She gave me five years of her life, after all.”
As he said it, he reached over and squeezed my hand, his eyes still brimming with that familiar, all-consuming love. A love so convincing, it was impossible to tell if any of it was real.
My face remained a calm mask, but my heart was hammering against my ribs. A sharp, indescribable pain bloomed in my chest.
Because I had heard every single word.

2
I’ve been keeping a secret from Barry for five years.
I was never deaf or mute.
I first met him the day my parents went hiking and never came back. A freak accident. I spent a day and a night outside the operating room, then another half a month camped outside the ICU.
But they never woke up.
In the span of 24 hours, the only two people on earth who shared my blood were gone. The blow was catastrophic. I cried until I passed out, again and again.
After one of those fainting spells, I woke up and found I couldn't speak.
The doctor told me it was a conversion disorder. My body, trying to protect itself from overwhelming trauma, had shut down my ability to speak. He said it was temporary. It would probably come back in a few months.
Crushed by the dual tragedies, I was lost in a fog of grief. Needing to breathe, I made my way to the hospital rooftop.
And that’s where I found Barry, standing on the ledge, ready to jump.
I lunged, grabbing him and pulling him back from the brink. We both tumbled to the rough concrete. My arm scraped against the ground, a raw, bloody patch that stung so badly it made me gasp.
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t scream at him, so I just pointed at him, then at myself. As he stared back, bewildered, I scrambled to my feet and drew a huge, angry ‘X’ in the air, gesturing toward the edge of the roof.
He understood. Don't do it.
A bitter smile twisted his lips, his eyes utterly devoid of light. But he had lost his nerve. He slumped to the ground, the courage for a second attempt gone. He picked up a small piece of gravel and began to scratch words onto the rooftop floor.
[You shouldn't have saved me. It took everything I had to build up the courage to jump, and now it's all gone.]
I read his words, then smacked him lightly on the back of the head and snatched the stone from his hand.
[The world is full of pain. You can't just run from it. Unless you truly have nothing and no one left to live for, then go ahead, jump again.]
I knew he couldn’t. I could see it in his eyes. He was trapped in his own private hell, flirting with the idea of escape through death, but a part of him was screaming for someone to pull him out of the abyss.
I wanted to be that person. Saving a life felt like something I could do for my parents, a small offering in their memory.
And so, we met.
I learned that Barry had been a golden boy, a prince in his own world, until a car accident had stolen his hearing and his voice. The doctors said the chances of recovery were slim. The fall from grace was more than he could bear.
And because I couldn't speak, he saw me as one of his own. He pushed everyone else away, but he let me in, finding solace in a shared misery.
To keep him alive, I told him a kind lie. I wrote it down for him: “I was born this way. I’ve never heard a sound or spoken a word. You have it better than me. So you have to live. You have to wait for your miracle.”
A white lie can make a flower bloom in the desert. Back then, Barry desperately needed someone to share his pain, someone to walk beside him in the darkness.
And there I was.
We met on that rooftop. I saved him. We became friends.
Day by day, our friendship deepened into something more.
And on that same rooftop, he confessed his feelings for me.
He signed, his hands trembling slightly, “I thought the world was a terrible place, but then I met you. Rowan, even if I stay like this forever, as long as I have you by my side, life won't be so hard. Because I have you.”
He also promised: Barry Roosevelt will always be true to Rowan.
The sunset that day was breathtaking, its warm glow wrapping around him like a halo. He stood in the light, held out his hand, and promised me a lifetime.
My heart surrendered. I fell completely and hopelessly in love with the boy in front of me.
But our life together wasn’t easy. We were a deaf couple in a hearing world, and we endured more than our share of condescending stares and cruel jokes. The same people who had envied him before now took pleasure in mocking and tormenting him.
Through five years of malice, we never let go of each other’s hand.
I truly believed he was my destiny. We could face any hardship, even a lifetime of it, as long as we were together.
Until the second car accident.
He was no longer trapped in silence. His voice was beautiful, a rich, warm sound that made my heart flutter every time he spoke.
I was ready to tell him everything, to finally share my secret.
But I never imagined that the five years I spent by his side had become the heaviest burden he carried.
It wasn't disappointment I felt, or sadness.
It was a profound sense of sorrow.
I remembered an old saying—that many people can endure hardship together, but few can share success.
It was the ugly, simple truth of human nature.
And in that moment, for Barry and me, it became devastatingly real.
A wave of nausea washed over me. When he reached out to pull me into an embrace, I shoved him away, hard. Without a second glance, I turned and fled from the room.
If his love wasn't pure, then I didn't want it at all.

3
My silent departure was a public humiliation for him, and Barry was furious.
He sent me a text: [Those were my best friends at the party tonight. You just running off like that, without a word… it made me look like an idiot. Forget it. Just take some time to cool off. I won’t be coming home for a few days.]
I stared at the words, a bitter irony twisting in my gut.
The old Barry, if he’d seen me leave like that, would have been consumed with worry. He would have been terrified that something was wrong, that I was in trouble. He would have stayed by my side until he saw me smile again.
But now, his first instinct wasn’t concern. It was shame.
My chest felt tight, constricted, like a massive stone was crushing my lungs, making it hard to breathe.
I was drowning in my own sorrow.
But the phone in my hand buzzed again, a notification. Barry and I both used social media to post snippets of our lives, a silent way of sharing our days, even if no one was watching.
He had just posted an update.
I couldn’t stop myself. Like a form of self-torture, I tapped the notification.
The photos showed him and a group of friends at the beach. Everyone was beaming, their joy uninhibited. In one shot, Barry had his arm slung around the neck of a girl I didn’t recognize, a beer bottle in his other hand. He looked completely free, without a single worry in the world. Certainly no worry for me.
He was happy.
In that moment, our worlds were polar opposites.

4
Barry was desperate for release.
For five long years, he had endured countless whispers and sneers. Now that he was whole again, he wanted to shout it from the rooftops, to make sure the entire world knew he was no longer broken.
For the next two weeks, he was a whirlwind of social events.
His feed was a constant stream of updates. Beach parties, exclusive clubs, lavish galas and charity balls—he was everywhere.
I found myself in a masochistic routine: open the app, zoom in on the pictures, study every detail, then close it. I was trying to wear down the love still clinging to my heart, to collect enough disappointment to finally walk away for good.
After five years together, I knew his circle of friends inside and out. Even the ones I’d never met felt familiar from the stories we’d shared. I could have picked them out of a crowd.
So when I saw the same unfamiliar girl in picture after picture, always by his side, a girl he had never once mentioned to me, I knew.
We were drifting apart, faster and further than I had realized.
As I sat numbly on the sofa, a video call from my friend Chloe popped up on my screen.
“Rowan! There’s this gala the day after tomorrow, and my dad is forcing me to go. I don’t want to find a date. Please, please come with me?”
Chloe was my rock. She came from a wealthy family but had none of the arrogance. Her laugh was loud and infectious, a burst of sunshine that could light up any room.
We had also met at the hospital.
During that time when I couldn't speak, even simple things were a struggle. Trying to get a nurse’s attention in a busy ward was impossible. I would just stand there, helpless and frustrated.
Chloe had been passing by and saw my distress. She helped me, and we became fast, true friends.
She even learned sign language for me.
Watching her form the clumsy, hesitant signs on the screen now brought a warmth to my chest. I really didn’t want to go out, but the pleading in her eyes was too much to resist. I finally nodded.
I never expected to see Barry at the gala.
He was dressed in a sharp tuxedo, a stunningly beautiful woman in a designer gown holding his arm. The moment she saw me, her eyes narrowed with an undisguised hostility.
It was her. The girl from all the photos.
Barry’s face tightened. “Rowan, what are you doing here?”
He had started to raise his hands to sign, but in the crowded, opulent ballroom, he seemed to think better of it. He dropped his hands, a forced, unnatural smile on his face as he spoke the words aloud.
“Well, well, Mr. Roosevelt,” a voice boomed from nearby. It was the CEO of a rival company, a man who loved to get under Barry’s skin. “As I recall, your fiancée is… a mute, isn’t she? Oh, that’s right, deaf and mute, just like you were. If you don’t sign to her, how on earth will she know what you’re saying?”
We had been through this before.
But back then, while the taunts stung, we ignored them, treating them as the pathetic ramblings of a bitter man.
Not this time. A dark flush of shame crept up Barry’s neck. He grabbed my arm, yanking me into a secluded corner, his hands flying in a series of sharp, angry signs.
He signed, “You threw a tantrum the other week, and I gave you space to cool off. I thought you would be good, like you always are. I can’t believe you’d show up here without telling me. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me?”
Embarrassing for him?
I struggled to process the word. I was just… here. I hadn't come with him. I was dressed appropriately. I hadn’t caused a scene. And yet, my mere presence was enough to make him feel ashamed.
The shock must have been written all over my face.
Barry let out a long sigh, a flicker of regret in his eyes. He looked like he was about to say more, to soften the blow, but before he could raise his hands again, the woman in the red dress glided over.
She beamed, waving a perfectly manicured hand at me. “Hello, Rowan! I’m Isabelle. I’m a friend of Barry’s. I’ve heard so much about you.”
She then clapped a hand over her mouth in mock horror, looking at Barry with wide, concerned eyes.
“Oh, I don’t know any sign language. Rowan probably didn’t understand a word of that, did she? It’s all my fault. I should have asked you to teach me a few things beforehand. It’s our first time meeting, I wanted to make a good impression.”
Barry gave her a small, reassuring smile. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter if she understood or not. You don’t need to worry about it.”
They exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them.
Then Isabelle gestured toward the dance floor. “The music is starting. You promised me the first dance, you know. Don’t you dare break your promise.” Her tone was playful, but her eyes held a warning.
Barry’s gaze flickered back to me, a flicker of indecision crossing his face.
Isabelle’s smile tightened. “When I came over just now,” she added casually, “I overheard quite a few people gossiping about Rowan.”
That did it. The hesitation vanished from Barry’s eyes. He turned to me, his decision made, and signed curtly, “I have to go dance. I know you don’t like crowded places, so just wait here and don’t wander off.”
With that, he and Isabelle turned and walked toward the center of the ballroom.
I stood frozen, watching his back recede into the crowd. The initial anger and pain had faded, replaced by a cold, hollow numbness.
I opened my mouth, wanting to scream.
I wanted to tell him that I loved crowded places, that it was loneliness I couldn't stand. I wanted to tell him that he was the one who hated crowds, because he couldn't bear the pitying stares and whispers. He hated being laughed at, so he hated the noise.
And now, maybe he was starting to hate me, too.
Isabelle glanced back over her shoulder, and in the triumphant glint in her eyes, I understood everything.

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "245699" to read the entire book.