He laughed it off, said he'd try to reply faster when he saw my messages.

He never pinned me.

When I brought it up again, he sighed and said he had too many work contacts for pinning to matter.

I let him talk me out of it. But the gray feeling stayed.

It wasn't until much, much later that I understood what that feeling was.

The quiet ache of not mattering enough.

Their chat history looked harmless.

Glenda shared a sunrise; Chester sent back a rainbow after the rain.

Nothing that would look wrong if anyone else read it—every message carefully inside the line marked "friends."

But that kind of idle, pointless back-and-forth had disappeared from my life with Chester a long time ago.

Our messages had been reduced to a handful of cold templates.

Working late? Have you eaten? Did the contract get signed?

I was about to close the chat when I accidentally tapped into his saved messages.

There was a pinned voice note from Glenda.

I pressed play. A bright, clear female voice filled the room.

"Chester, if you hadn't been so sharp-tongued back then, maybe we wouldn't have missed our chance."

The timestamp was three years ago.

The same day Chester lost his voice.

Something broke open in my chest, and cold air rushed straight through.

So his illness had been a lie. All of it.

Chester had punished himself with silence—a monument to the love he missed out on.

And he'd kept it from me—lied to my face every single night for three years.

I scrubbed the tears away and set the phone back exactly where I'd found it.

I pulled open the bottom drawer of the nightstand. Inside were all my professional certifications.

My fingertips traced the embossed lettering, and for a moment I saw myself again—standing at the front of a conference hall, commanding the room.

But just days ago I'd been nothing. A useless thing that couldn't even keep her own baby alive.

I dialed the number I knew by heart.

The call connected, and a strong, weathered voice came through.

"Georgina, is that you?"

I drew a deep breath and answered clearly. "Professor Bennett, I want to come back. Is there still a place for me?"

Silence on the other end, just for a beat, then unmistakable delight breaking through.

"Of course there is! My chief interpreter seat is open and waiting!"

After I hung up, I gathered my important documents together.

I had barely stepped out of the bedroom when I saw Chester coming out of his study.