Chapter 3: Walls Built in Silence

I clenched my hands tight, already bracing myself for Eli to refuse in front of everyone. But instead, he said, “Alright. Let’s get married as soon as we can.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and sudden, like a door slamming open. I stared at him, waiting for the punchline, but he just looked back, calm as ever, his expression unreadable.

His answer left me totally stunned. I even forgot to ask why he agreed. I was half happy, half confused. Just like that, in a daze, I married Eli Turner.

The courthouse was small and a little run-down, with faded American flags, a tired-looking clerk behind the counter, and a judge who barely glanced up from her paperwork. Our parents snapped a few awkward photos on their phones, and before I knew it, I was Mrs. Turner. There’s even a family photo where my dad’s thumb covers half my face.

That night, when I walked into our room, he’d just finished showering. His hair was still damp, and he lounged against the headboard in his pajamas, reading a book with the TV quietly humming in the background.

The room smelled faintly of his cologne and clean laundry, mixed with the scent of city air drifting through the window. Nervously, I tugged at my nightgown, my hands shaking a little. He didn’t even look up—just took out his hearing aid and set it on the nightstand, like I wasn’t even there.

I snorted quietly—just as I expected. He probably couldn’t be bothered to get to know other women, figured it didn’t matter who he married, so he might as well save the trouble and marry me. My inner monologue spiraled: Classic Eli, always the minimalist, probably thinks romance is just a Netflix genre.

Fine, I told myself, trying to muster some dignity. I climbed onto the bed, turned off the lamp, and tried to sleep, the hum of the air conditioner filling the silence.

Suddenly, a pair of warm, strong hands wrapped around my waist. My whole body tensed, heart pounding like crazy.

Eli pulled me into his arms and leaned down to kiss me. I was totally caught off guard, my breath hitching.

His lips were soft but insistent, the taste of mint lingering, and I felt my heart pounding so hard it echoed in my ears. He kissed me like he meant it, making my face burn and my hands tremble. I even forgot to be surprised—just lost in the moment, the unfamiliar intimacy of sharing a bed with him.

He whispered, his voice rough and a little breathless, “I can’t hear you. If it’s too much, just let me know—give me a sign.”

Eli’s breathing grew heavy, his strong heartbeat thudding against my skin. Coming to my senses, I pushed him away, embarrassment burning in my cheeks.

His hands lingered at my waist for a moment before falling away. I didn’t understand him, and I probably never would. A mess of emotions—anger, confusion, longing—swirled inside me, making me even more upset.

I yelled at him not to touch me, called him a lunatic, but he couldn’t hear a word. My voice broke, my fists clenched at my sides.

His arms around my waist were hot, like he meant to set me on fire. The sheets felt cool and unfamiliar against my skin, the city lights glowing through the window, casting strange patterns on the ceiling.

Only when he was completely spent did he roll over and put his hearing aid back in. “What did you say?”

I bit his shoulder hard in frustration—tasting salt, feeling the tension in his muscles, and hearing the soft gasp he let out. “You don’t even like me, so why do all this? Why’d you agree to marry me?”

Eli was still catching his breath, sweat sliding down his pale cheeks, damp hair sticking to his forehead. He pushed his wet hair back and stared at me, his chest rising and falling quickly.

There was a flicker of something in his gaze—something raw and unguarded. I didn’t know if I was imagining it, but I thought I saw a deep tenderness in his eyes, like he’d been holding back a flood of emotion for years.

I quietly waited for his answer, my heart in my throat.

I loved him, and I’d made up all kinds of excuses for his coldness. Maybe he really had his reasons—maybe he did love me after all?

After a long pause, he hesitated, dropped his eyes, and finally just said, “Go wash up and get some sleep.”

His voice was quiet, almost gentle, but it felt like a door quietly closing between us. With that, he took out his hearing aid and went straight to the shower, leaving me alone with my questions and the soft whir of the air conditioner.

After that, every month, he treated intimacy between us like some kind of marital duty, never once answering my questions.

I loved him, but the constant silence pushed me to the edge. Breakfasts passed in awkward silence, dinners felt like rituals performed for an invisible audience. The tension between us was a silent storm I couldn’t escape.