Too late daddy! mommy won't take you back

The rain was pouring down hard, freezing my skin, but I didn't care. I stood right outside Luther Benjamin's apartment building, my hands trembling inside my coat pockets.

For months, Luther had been everything to me. We were high school sweethearts, inseparable despite the whispers and cruel stares from everyone else. Luther couldn't speak—he had been mute since a childhood trauma, communicating with me through gentle smiles, warm touches, and small notes scribbled on cheap notebook paper. He loved me with a pure, honest heart that made me feel like I could conquer the world.

And right now, I was about to crush him into dust.

The heavy front door swung open, and there he was. Luther stepped out into the rain, wearing his oversized black hoodie, his dark hair plastered against his forehead. When he saw me standing there in the cold, his face lit up with that soft, devoted smile that used to make my heart melt. He rushed forward, his hands moving quickly in sign language to ask why I was out so late, why I was freezing, if I was okay.

When I didn't answer, his brow furrowed with worry. He pulled out his small spiral notebook and a pen, scribbling against the wet paper in the dim streetlamp light.

He held it up to me.

What's wrong, Maya? Talk to me.

My stomach twisted into a painful knot. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run into his arms, to tell him everything, to let him hold me. But I couldn't. I forced my breathing to steady. I forced my face to twist into something cold, hard, and ugly.

Luther tilted his head, stepping closer, reaching out to touch my wet cheek with his gentle hand.

I slapped his hand away. Hard.

Luther froze. His hand hung in the air, absolute shock written all over his face.

"Stop touching me, Luther," I spat out, my voice dripping with fake poison. "Just stop it. I am so sick of this."

His eyes widened. He stared at me, his lips parting as he tried to speak—trying to force a sound from a throat that wouldn't work. He made a low, strangled noise, his chest heaving as he frantically grabbed his notebook again, scribbling with a shaking hand.

He shoved the paper into my chest.

“Maya, what are you saying? Please.

"Talk to you?" I let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "With what voice, Luther? You can't even speak! You're a mute. You've always been a mute loser, and I am sick and tired of dragging a helpless nobody around!"

The words felt like shattered glass sliding down my throat. I watched the color drain completely from his face. The notebook slipped from his fingers, landing face down in the muddy puddle between our feet, the ink bleeding away in the rain.

He stared at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He shook his head slowly, a desperate, silent plea in his eyes. He reached out again, his fingers catching my jacket, begging me to take the words back.

"Let go of me!" I screamed over the roar of the thunder. "I never loved you! I was just passing time with a pathetic kid who can't even defend himself. A rich man wants me now. Someone with real money, someone who can actually talk to me, someone who isn't a silent burden!"

A tear slipped down his cheek, blending with the rain. He couldn't speak, but the look of utter, total devastation on his face screamed louder than thunder.

"We're done," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Stay away from me. I'm going to a life of luxury, and you will never see me again."

Before he could process another second of my cruelty, I raised my hands and shoved him.

I pushed him with all my weight.

Luther wasn't expecting it. His boots slipped on the slick concrete, and he fell backward hard, landing squarely in the deep, muddy puddle on the side of the road, splashing dirty water all over his clothes.

I didn't help him up. I turned on my heel.

"Goodbye, mute," I choked out into the dark night.

I forced my legs to run down the street away from him, ignoring the way he tried to push himself up from the mud, ignoring the way his silent, broken cries echoed behind me. Once I turned the corner out of his sight, I slid down a brick wall, sinking into the freezing pavement, pulling my knees to my chest, and crying out a sound so loud the rain swallowed it whole.

I had dumped him. I had told him right to his face that I chose money and status over his love. I had left him bleeding in the dirt because he was poor and couldn't speak.

That was what he believed. That was what the whole world would believe.

And as I sat there in the freezing dark, wiping the tears from my face, I knew there was no going back. I had made my choice, and I would carry the hatred of the only man I ever loved for the rest of my life.