Mr. Fake-Mute's Love Game Ended When I Stopped Playing the Fool novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4

They partied till late.

2 AM. The manager, worried I was still sick, told me to head home.

I’d barely stepped inside when Zeke followed me in.

He was holding a smashed birthday cake. I could still see Vivian’s name on it.

Vivian’s birthday,” he said. “Barely touched the cake. Figured you never get to eat stuff like this, so I brought it home.”

‘I remember you like sweets.”

Was I supposed to thank him?

He didn’t explain. Didn’t say a word about tonight. Like he knew–no matter what he did, I’d forgive him.

I almost asked if he remembered today was my birthday too.

Then I stopped myself. What was the point?

We’d never see each other again anyway.

[ hummed softly, opened the closet, started packing.

The whole closet–barely anything in there was mine. One cheap polyester coat. A few pilled sweaters. That’s how I’d survived every

winter.

‘What are you doing?”

I stopped. Forget it. Leave it all. I’d buy new stuff.

‘Nothing. Just looking for something to wear.”

Zeke smiled, grabbed my hand. “Don’t bother. You’re off tomorrow. Let me take you out. We’ll get you new clothes.”

Before I could answer, his phone rang.

Vivian.

He turned away, answered. Voice dripping with affection: “Miss me already? I’ll be right there.”

Didn’t even try to hide it.

He headed for the door without a second glance. “Go to sleep. Don’t wait up.”

But something snapped in me.

“Zeke–do you love me?”

14:56

Mr Fake Mute’s Love Came Frided When I Stonned Plaving the Fool

Chapter 4

He froze. “What’s wrong?”

Tears came flooding out. I broke down, sobbing. All the pain I’d buried came crashing up.

I grabbed his hand, begging. “Zeke, just say it. Please. Just say you love me.”

“Just once.”

Please. Let me walk away with something.

But he pried my fingers off, one by one.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just started talking again. Some words… I can’t say them yet.”

Then he left.

Didn’t look back.

I cried on the floor for hours. Until my eyes swelled shut. Until I had no tears left.

When the sun came up, I grabbed my ID, took one last look at that tiny apartment, and left.

8:30 AM. Thirty minutes till boarding.

Zeke texted.

“Where are you? Working again? I’m better now. You don’t have to push yourself so hard.”

“Got you soy milk from that place on East Street. Your favorite.”

I didn’t reply.

3:50 AM. He sent a photo. A little cake.

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