Chapter 1 — The Voices That Never Stop
The city of Seattle was covered in a soft mist that evening. The streets were wet from a passing rain, the sky a dull grey, and the faint scent of coffee drifted from the cafés that lined the block. People hurried past, umbrellas open, shoes splashing through puddles.
For most people, the city was alive with sound — cars, footsteps, laughter.
But for Arin, it was more than sound. It was voices.
Thousands of them.
He could hear the things people never said out loud — the thoughts that stayed trapped inside their heads. They came to him like whispers in the wind, uninvited and unstoppable.
"I hope he notices me today."
"I shouldn't have lied to her."
"Please don't let me fail this time."
Every passing stranger carried a story he never wanted to know.
At first, when he was younger, he thought it was just intuition — being able to sense what people felt. But as he grew older, he realized it was something deeper, stranger.
It wasn't a gift. It was a curse.
By the time he was twenty-seven, he had already moved away from his family and friends in India, hoping that distance could quiet the noise.
He found a small apartment in Seattle, near Lake Union, a place where the city lights shimmered on the water at night.
He worked at a cozy little coffee shop on 4th Avenue, where jazz music played softly, and customers came and went without noticing him much. That was how he liked it — invisible.
He'd smile when people ordered, hand them their drinks, and quietly listen to their thoughts without meaning to.
Some days, he'd hear things that broke his heart — people crying silently inside, wishing someone cared.
Other days, he'd hear cruel things — selfish, angry thoughts that made him hate this power even more.
The only time he felt peace was at night, when the city slept and the world went quiet.
He'd sit on his balcony with a cup of coffee, staring at the water below. The cold air helped him breathe. The sound of rain calmed him. But even then, a few stray thoughts always found their way in — a neighbor's dream, a taxi driver's frustration, a couple arguing in silence.
No matter where he went, the voices followed.
Until that one night.
It was around 8 p.m. The streets were still damp. Arin had just left the café after a long shift, his head heavy from the day's noise. He took his usual shortcut home — across the intersection near the park.
He could already hear the hum of thoughts around him —
"I need to buy milk."
"My boss is going to kill me."
"Why did he leave me?"
He winced, pressing his fingers to his temples. Sometimes he wished he could tear the voices out of his mind. He closed his eyes for just a second, trying to block them all out.
And then—
A scream.
The sound of screeching tires.
He opened his eyes just in time to see a car rushing through the wet street — and a girl frozen in its path.
Without thinking, he ran. His heart pounded. His shoes splashed through puddles. He reached her just as the car skidded, grabbing her arm and pulling her back.
They stumbled onto the sidewalk. The car came to a stop a few feet away, the driver yelling something out the window, but Arin didn't hear him.
He was too busy looking at the girl he had just saved.
She was trembling, breathing fast, her eyes wide. Her black hair clung to her face from the rain.
Arin kept holding her arm for a moment, afraid she might fall. "Hey, hey—it's okay. You're safe," he said softly.
She looked up at him, her lips parting as if to say something. But no sound came out. Instead, she shook her head, pointed at her throat, and then lowered her eyes.
Arin frowned slightly. "You… can't speak?"
She nodded.
And then he realized something strange — something that made his heart skip.
He couldn't hear her thoughts. Not a whisper. Not even a trace of emotion.
Nothing.
It was like her silence wrapped around him, shielding him from the noise of the world.
For the first time in years, his mind was quiet. Completely quiet.
He didn't even know her name, but he felt something in that silence — peace.
The rain began to fall again, light and gentle this time. She smiled weakly, mouthing a "thank you." Her eyes were warm — grateful, but tired.
Arin smiled back, his voice soft. "You're welcome. Just… be careful next time, okay?"
She nodded again, still a little shaky. Then she reached into her bag, pulled out a small notepad, and wrote a few words before tearing the page and handing it to him.
> "Thank you for saving me. — Maya"
He looked at the paper, then at her. "Maya," he repeated, as if saying her name out loud made it real.
She smiled again, a real one this time. Then she waved, turned, and slowly walked away into the rainy street.
Arin stood there for a long moment, holding the note. The sounds of the city began to return — thoughts, noises, all of it. But something inside him had changed.
He didn't know why he felt drawn to her, or why her silence had quieted the chaos inside his head.
All he knew was that, for a few seconds, the voices had stopped.
That night, when he lay in bed, he kept the note beside his pillow.
He stared at her name until he fell asleep — and for the first time in years, he dreamed in silence.