Mute Girl

The aroma of freshly baked vanilla cake wafted up to Abigail's nose as she got out of the cab and carefully balanced a small white box in her hands.

Abigail's heart pounded as she walked into the house with quick steps while glancing at her wristwatch to make sure that she wasn't going to be late.

She had a flight to catch and was about to leave for the airport when Genevieve, her stepsister, asked her to buy her a cake for her birthday and deliver it personally before traveling.

It was Genevieve's eighteenth birthday, and they would be throwing a party for her later that night, but Abigail wouldn't be there. So, the least she could do was get her the cake as she requested.

Her hands tightened on the box as she neared Genevieve's bedroom. She could already hear her stepsister's voice in her head—mocking, perhaps, but maybe this time she would say, "Thank you, Abigail."

Reaching the door, Abigail shifted the box to one hand and knocked gently, the sound barely audible.

There was no response.

Her brows furrowed. Perhaps Genevieve was sleeping? She pushed the door open softly, and the sight before her stopped her in her tracks.

Genevieve was sprawled on the bed, topless, and beside her was Dave— Abigail's boyfriend— his arms wrapped tightly around Genevieve as they kissed, lost in their passion.

The cake slipped from her fingers. The box hit the floor with a muffled thud, the lid popping open to reveal the perfect cake she had picked out.

The sound made both Genevieve and Dave turn their heads.

Genevieve's gaze landed on Abigail, and a slow, malicious smirk spread across her face. She didn't even bother covering herself, as though she had been waiting for this moment.

"What took you so long?" Genevieve drawled, not bothered about the cake Abigail had dropped since she didn't exactly have any need for it and had only requested the cake so that Abigail could see her with Dave.

Abigail said nothing as her eyes darted to Dave, silently pleading for an explanation. He looked away, his face blank, as if he didn't know her.

Abigail's eyes brimmed with tears as she continued to stare at them, wishing she could speak and ask Dave why he was in bed with her stepsister when he had not once kissed or held hands with her since they started dating two months ago.

He had said he wanted their relationship to be a secret and that they should keep it innocent. She had thought he said that out of love and respect for her, but seeing him now in bed with Genevieve made her stomach churn.

She had asked Dave to take her to the airport since she was leaving for college and since they had applied to different colleges, they might not see each other for a while, but Dave had said he already had plans and couldn't. Now, she could see what his so-called plans were.

"You look so shocked, Abigail. Why? Did you really think Dave cared about a mute girl like you?" Genevieve asked, her voice laced with mockery.

Abigail's chest tightened as her gaze returned to Genevieve.

Genevieve sat up, her smirk growing crueler. "Oh, don't tell me you actually thought you were special?" she said with a laugh. "No normal guy in his senses would want a mute like you. Dave only got close to you so he could get close to me. Isn't that right, Dave?"

Dave shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

"Why aren't you saying anything, Dave? Afraid to hurt my mute stepsister?" Genevieve asked with a pout, trailing a finger on his cheeks.

Tears burned in Abigail's eyes, but she blinked them back, her throat aching with unsaid words.

"Go on. Tell her what you told me," Genevieve urged Dave. "Tell her!" She commanded.

"I was never interested in you, Abi. It's Genny I want," Dave said, and Genevieve laughed out gleefully while a tear dropped from Abigail's eyes.

"Good boy," Genevieve said as she tilted her head, her voice dripping with feigned sweetness. "Come on, Abi. Don't just stand there. You made a mess. Clean it up. And hurry up—you know you can't miss your flight. You still have to travel ahead with my luggage. You need to get the apartment and everything ready before I arrive."

"You can leave now, Dave. I have to get ready for my party tonight," Genevieve said dismissively as she rose.

"But…"

"Now!" she snapped at him and then turned to Abigail. "You're mute, not deaf, Abigail. MOVE IT!" she hissed.

As Dave walked out of the room, Abigail dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as she picked up the ruined cake piece by piece. Frosting smeared her fingers, and her tears blurred her vision, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop.

Why was she so pained and surprised? she thought bitterly. This isn't the first time Genevieve had done something like this. It was as if Genevieve derived a certain pleasure from seeing her hurt, and she had no idea why.

Her mind raced as she scooped the broken pieces into the box. She should have guessed when Genevieve had insisted on the cake. She should have realized it was a setup. And when Dave had said he couldn't see her off to the airport, claiming he was too busy— of course, he had been busy with Genevieve.

Her tears fell freely now, streaking her pale cheeks as she gathered the last of the mess. She pressed her lips tightly together, trying to ignore the sound of Genevieve's laughter.

Her chest ached with humiliation, but she swallowed the pain. Why did she keep believing that anyone could love a mute like her? She was such a fool, she thought.

Love wasn't for someone like her, Abigail told herself. She needed to stop making silly mistakes like this.

She should be grateful that despite the fact that she was the daughter of a shameless maid who had drugged Mr Harris and gotten pregnant for him, they let her stay under their roof.

She should be grateful that they were letting her go to college, even if it was just so that she could study for Genevieve like she had been doing all her life.

It didn't matter that she did all the work, and Genevieve took all the credit and glory. What mattered was that she had a roof over her head and was given stipends. That should be enough.

When she was done, she stood, clutching the ruined cake box to her chest. She didn't look at Genevieve as she turned and left the room, but Genevieve's giggle followed her.

A fresh wave of tears threatened to spill, but she wiped them away quickly with one hand. She had no time to waste. Her flight wouldn't wait, and she still had to make sure everything was ready at the apartment before Genevieve resumed.

There was no point crying over any of this; she told herself as she made her way to the kitchen, where she threw the cake box into the trash.

She quickly rinsed her hand, and without looking back, she hurried out to get back into the cab, which was still waiting for her.

Although her heart was shattered, she told herself it didn't matter. This was her life— living in Genevieve's shadow, silenced and unseen. And she would endure it because she had no other choice.