Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Jessica forced a faint smile.

No matter how tactfully Sallie put it, the message was always the same— Jessica's muteness was a disappointment.

She should try harder.

But Jessica had been trying, day after day, to prove herself worthy of Timothy. She'd done everything she could think of. If only the Lawsons could show her a little more respect, maybe Henry wouldn't have grown so distant, so ashamed of having a mother who couldn't speak.

But what could she do? She was voiceless, powerless.

That's why she was so willing to support Carlisle and the others they worked so hard to prove that even without a voice, they could live, work, and create just like anyone else.

Sallie, meanwhile, felt she'd done all she could for Jessica. She'd given her advice, offered reminders, and now, if Jessica couldn't appreciate it, she'd just have to deal with the consequences herself. As for Sheila, Sallie was sure their grandfather would step in.

With that, Sallie left.

Jessica made her way to Henry's hospital room.

He'd had surgery just before dawn; now that the anesthesia had worn off, he probably still hurt. Even in his sleep, his small face was scrunched up in pain.

She didn't want to blame him. But it stung, deeply, that he clung to Sheila and seemed embarrassed by his own mother. Every time he pushed her away, it cut her to the bone.

wasn't tired that

Morning came.

Henry finally opened his eyes, he saw Jessica dozing beside his bed, her head resting on her arms. Something

boy, opening his eyes to see his mother slumped in the same spot, trying to stay awake all night

wasn't that he didn't love her. But she couldn't

envied him-his dad was the wealthiest man in Riverside City, and naturally, everyone assumed his

just didn't want them to find out that

"Mom..." he whispered.

up at the sound of

here all night?"

Jessica nodded.

out her phone and typed into a text-to-speech app: "Henry,

the ring

voice was pleasant enough, but it was still artificial, a reminder that

childish. He rolled his eyes. "You can just use sign language, Mom. I know how to read it. Dad gave you that talking ring so you can communicate with strangers,

ache throbbed