They Said I Was Lying, They Forgot I Couldn’t Speak Chapter 01

They Said I Was Lying, They Forgot I Couldn’t Speak Chapter 01

My twin sister and I were born with different disabilities. I couldn’t speak, and she couldn’t hear.

At first, our whole family was focused on getting both of us treatment.

Whenever my sister got upset because she couldn’t hear, she’d start wailing, and everyone would rush to comfort her. I couldn’t tell anyone what I wanted or how I felt, so all I could do was stand there helplessly, and everyone decided I was withdrawn around people.

Eventually, there was always some reason her treatment had to come first.

With time, my sister gradually began to hear, and every year my parents replaced her hearing aids with the newest models. Meanwhile, I kept waiting. Somewhere along the way, everyone stopped seeing me as a child who couldn’t speak and started seeing me as a quiet, withdrawn kid they didn’t much like.

After graduation, I brought my boyfriend, Derek Vaughn, home for the first time.

My twin sister was nestled between our parents on the couch, talking in a sweet, playful voice. Derek watched her for a moment, then said, “So that’s what you’d sound like if you could talk. Your voice is beautiful.”

My parents didn’t even look at me. They just complained to Derek, “She’s always been like this. Never much of a talker, even as a kid. You’ve really had your hands full with her, Derek.”

My sister chimed in sweetly, “It’s fine, Derek. Tessa and I look exactly alike. If Tessa won’t talk, just come find me. I’ll say whatever you want to hear.”

When Derek didn’t shut her down, I tightened my grip on my fork.

After that, Derek kept finding reasons to see my sister, claiming he only wanted to know what I would be like if I could talk. She sent him good-night voice notes before bed and comforted him whenever he was down.

Even at Derek’s birthday party, a recording of my sister singing “Happy Birthday” played on a loop.

I confronted him in ASL, but he shoved me away.

“Tessa Monroe, how long are you going to keep this up? Your whole family says you’re just quiet, but you lied to me from the beginning and told me you couldn’t speak.”

My parents piled on too.

“Sienna Monroe was born deaf. Instead of having any compassion for her, you’ve spent all these years pretending you couldn’t speak just to compete with her for attention.”

The moment the slap landed, everything became clear.

After all those years of waiting, even my own parents had forgotten that I truly couldn’t speak.

I held my cheek in silence. I didn’t cry or move.

Derek saw me looking at him and signed back.

[What? Did that slap knock you stupid?]

[Going to claim it made you deaf too, so everyone will fuss over you the way they fuss over Sienna?]

[Tessa, how did I never realize you were this manipulative?]

…

He signed quickly and fluently, with practiced ease.

When I first met Derek, he was relentless about winning me over. Once he learned I couldn’t speak, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he spent a solid month learning ASL just so he could understand me.

The first thing he ever signed to me was a question.

[Tessa, can I be your voice?]

From then on, Derek was always at my side, interpreting for me. He encouraged me to make friends, travel, and see everything the world had to offer.

But everything that had once felt sincere had turned into ammunition against me.

He kept mocking me in the very language he’d learned for my sake. In his eyes, I was just the liar my family had described—a woman who had faked being unable to speak just to compete with her sister for attention.

Maybe he got tired of signing. Maybe he finally noticed I was crying. Either way, he relented.

“Enough. It’s my birthday. Don’t ruin it with this.”

“I’m mad because you’re my girlfriend, and you won’t even say happy birthday to me.”

“Say it now, and I’ll forgive you.”

I looked down, and the floor blurred through my tears.

But Derek, I wanted to speak too.

When I opened my mouth, all that came out was a dry, hoarse rasp.

My sister’s singing was still filling the room, a cruel contrast to the sound that came out of me.