Chapter 1: When are you going to divorce her?
"When will you file for divorce from Mary Smith?" In the private room, the girl gazed at the man in front of her, eyes full of deep affection.
Mary stood outside the room, a chill gripping her limbs. Like the girl, she kept her gaze on the man's striking and refined face, her complexion gradually turning pale. That man was her husband, Matthew Montagu.
Matthew was a mute, working as a waiter at this club. Mary had finished work early today and came to find him, hoping to go home together. She never expected to witness such a scene.
Usually dressed in a waiter's uniform, Matthew wore a suit today, his short hair meticulously styled. His demeanor exuded a sense of nobility and aloofness. Such a facet of elegance was unknown to Mary.
With parted lips, his voice echoed in a deep and pleasing cadence, "I will inform her immediately."
Mary closed her eyes abruptly and turned to leave.
Matthew could speak. And his voice was so pleasant.
However, Mary never expected that the first words she would hear him speak were about divorce.
Mary felt disoriented; she suspected a case of mistaken identity.
That dignified and distant man couldn't be Matthew. Matthew would never divorce her.
Mary left the club. It was raining outside. She got drenched quickly. She took out her phone and, as if possessed, dialed Matthew's number.
Approaching the window of the private chamber, she peered through the misty rain. She saw Matthew pick up his phone, his frigid, long eyebrows furrowing. He hung up the call expressionlessly and then started typing. Soon, she received a message.
Matthew: [Mary, did you forget that I can't speak? Why are you calling me?]
Looking at the message, Mary felt as if a knife had pierced her heart!
Why did Matthew lie to her? When did he regain his ability to speak? When did he meet that girl? When did he decide to divorce her?An avalanche of inquires besieged Mary’s mind. While part of her yearned to confront Matthew, she recoiled from the prospect of confronting his indifferent gaze.
A year ago, Mary took in Matthew, who had suffered from amnesia. At that time, he couldn't speak and only remembered how to sign his name; all other memories were out of reach.
Mary taught him diligently, helping him learn to read, learn sign language, and even learn to love her.
Later, they got married.
Over the past year, Mary had gotten used to Matthew's presence and his gentle smile.
The rain soaked Mary. She took a deep breath, tears with rain flowing down her throat, tasting bitter.
No, this must be an illusion. Matthew wouldn't divorce her.
Returning home in the rain, Mary took a hot shower. She prepared Matthew's favorite dishes and sat quietly at the dining table, waiting for him.
At ten o'clock in the evening, the door opened, and Matthew walked in, bringing in the cold.
Mary saw that he had changed back into his waiter's uniform. Her heart inexplicably ached.
For a moment, she couldn't tell if what she had seen during the day was a hallucination.
[Mary, what's wrong?]
Matthew walked over and saw Mary looking pale and dazed. He anxiously asked in sign language.
At that moment, the image of him laughing and talking to another woman flashed through Mary's mind.
"Matthew, you have another woman's perfume," Mary said, avoiding his touch.
Matthew's expression froze, and he signed: [I was assigned to help in the private room today. I might have gotten some guest's perfume on me. I'll go shower now.]
He got up and went to the bathroom, and soon there was the sound of running water.
Thinking of Matthew's anxious explanation just now, Mary felt confused. Which one was the real him?
Mary stood up and went directly into the bathroom. Ignoring the water, she hugged him tightly, closing her eyes. She mustered up the courage to speak, "Matthew, I went to find you today."
Matthew's movements froze. After a while, there was a sigh.
Matthew looked at Mary with a complicated expression and finally spoke, "So, you know everything."