He Took Off His Hearing Aid To Ignore My Screams Chapter 08

He Took Off His Hearing Aid To Ignore My Screams Chapter 08

Driven by guilt, Vaughn finally signed the divorce papers.

The paperwork was processed quickly.

We agreed to meet outside the county clerk’s office—the first time I’d seen him in months, since we split.

He’d wasted away to unrecognizable proportions, sunken eye sockets, cracked chapped lips, overgrown messy hair falling across his forehead.

He wore the dark navy button-down I’d bought for him years ago. The collar had faded pale, and one cuff button was missing, left unrepaired.

He’d always hated this shirt before, claiming the dark shade aged him.

“Elara.”

I ignored him.

“You’re absolutely certain about this?”

I pulled my ID card out of my bag and set it on the service counter.

“Let’s go inside.”

He stood frozen in place, staring at me for what felt like an eternity. The staff behind the counter grew impatient and called out to hurry us along.

“Alright…”

He spoke in a hoarse whisper.

Signatures, fingerprints, official stamps.

In less than twenty minutes, three years of marriage came to an end.

Stepping outside the bureau, the sun shone bright and warm against my skin.

I took a deep breath, the heavy stone weighing on my chest for three years finally lifted away.

“Elara.”

Vaughn called after me.

I halted, but didn’t turn around.

“Can I hold you one last time?”

“No.”

I stepped forward and walked away.

He shouted something behind me, but the wind swallowed the words.

Or maybe I heard them perfectly well—I just chose not to reply.

After the divorce, I built a brand-new life for myself.

I landed a new job as an editor at a publishing house.

The salary wasn’t high, but it was more than enough to support myself.

My rental was small, but I painted the walls soft blue and filled the balcony with pothos vines. My days were quiet, simple and peaceful.

Sometimes I still thought about the child we’d lost.

I’d replay that morning in my head. I stare at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, crying and laughing alone in the bathroom.

I’d daydreamed about what our baby might look like—would their eyes match Vaughn’s, or mine?

What about their nose, their temperament?

I’d wondered if Vaughn would be happy when he found out, if he’d anticipate our little one just as much as I did.

Looking back now, I’d been painfully naive back then.

The baby was gone, the marriage over.

But I was still here.

As long as I was alive, I could start everything over again.

Two months later, I headed home from work and spotted a familiar figure standing under the streetlamp.

It was Vaughn.

He clutched a bouquet of daisies in his hands and rushed toward me the second he saw me.

“Elara.”

“How did you find my address?”

“I asked your coworker.” His tone was cautious, nervous. “Don’t be mad. I just… needed to see you.”

“You’ve seen me. You can leave now.”

I stepped around him and kept walking.

He trailed a short distance behind me, keeping a three-step gap between us.

“I quit my job.” He said abruptly.

My footsteps faltered.

“I messed up multiple surgeries. My director said I’m no longer fit to operate.”

I didn’t glance back.

“I work at a tiny local clinic now.”

“I sold the house too.”

I stopped short.

“You sold it?”

His voice dropped to a murmur. “It’s too big. Cold, living there all alone.”

I turned to face him.

He was thinner than he’d been at the divorce. The shirt hung loose off his frame, cheekbones sharp and prominent, dark purple bruising heavy beneath his eyes.

“Vaughn, what exactly are you trying to say?”

He stared at me, bloodshot eyes, lips trembling for a long moment before forcing the words out.

“I miss you.”

The streetlamp stretched his shadow long and thin, pooling at my feet in a posture of humble begging.

I stared at that shadow, waiting for even a flicker of softness in my heart.

But nothing came.

“You need to go home.” I told him. “Don’t come back here again.”

“Elara.”

“Vaughn, listen to me.”

I locked eyes with him, speaking slowly and clearly. “I don’t hate you, but I don’t love you anymore either.”

“Loving someone drained me completely. I don’t have the strength to do it again.”

He stood rigid, like he’d taken a hard blow straight to the jaw, completely frozen.

“I’m sorry.”

He repeated the same phrase over and over.

“I’m so sorry, Elara. This is all my fault…”

“It’s no one’s fault, not yours, not mine. We just weren’t right for each other.” I said quietly.

“The woman you need is someone like Sorrel—someone who never annoys you, who never fights with you, who worships you as her whole world.”

“The man I need is someone who stands beside me without hesitation when I need him. Someone who doesn’t shut himself off and lock me out of his life.”

“Vaughn, we were never each other’s person.”

Tears spilled down his cheeks once more.

This was only the second time I’d watched him cry.

“But I love you.” His voice was barely recognizable, raw and broken.

“Elara, after you left I finally realized how badly I crave hearing your voice. I figured it all out far too late.”

“Elara, I truly love you.”

I offered no response, turning and walking away without a single second’s hesitation, never glancing back.

Under the streetlamp behind me, Vaughn clutched his wilting daisies, standing motionless for hours on end.

He stayed until the petals shriveled, until the streetlights flickered off, until pale dawn light painted the sky.

He waited, but I never returned.