That evening, the park was quieter than usual. The sky was painted in soft shades of orange and pink, and a cool breeze carried the faint scent of rain from the distant horizon. As always, he sat on the same worn-out bench, his posture as rigid as ever, his mind lost in thoughts that only he could comprehend.

And, as always, she appeared.

This time, she held two cones of melting ice cream — one chocolate, one vanilla. She plopped down beside him, as she had been doing for days, and wordlessly handed him the chocolate cone. Of course, he didn’t take it. He never did.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to just accept it once,” she mumbled, taking a big bite of her vanilla ice cream. “I mean, you do know how to eat, right?” She glanced at him, expecting no response, as usual.

Then, it happened.

With a slight movement of her hand, a single drop of ice cream slid off her cone and landed right on the sleeve of his shirt. She froze.

“Oh… oh no.” She gasped, panic flashing across her face. “I’m so sorry! I’m really sorry. Let me clean — ”

“It’s okay.”

Her body stiffened.

She slowly turned her head toward him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

“Huh… WHAT?!”

He said nothing.

She blinked rapidly, as if making sure she hadn’t imagined it. Then, pointing an accusing finger at him, she nearly shouted, “Uhm… So, you can talk!?”

Silence.

Her mouth fell open in disbelief.

“I — I thought you were deaf, so I started learning sign language… haha…” She forced out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Not gonna lie, I was really bad at it. You would’ve had a hard time understanding me anyway.”

Still, he didn’t reply.

But she wasn’t about to let this go.

“Oh, come on! I just heard your voice. You spoke. I have proof now,” she said, leaning toward him, squinting as if studying his face for any cracks in his stone-cold demeanour. “So why didn’t you talk to me all this time? Huh? Do you just enjoy making me look like a crazy person talking to herself?”

She expected more silence.

Instead, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled softly, tilting his head just slightly toward her.

“…I just didn’t see the point.”

She gasped dramatically. “There it is! Another sentence!” She clutched her chest. “Oh my god, am I dreaming?”

He turned his gaze away, shaking his head slightly, and for the first time in a long time, the corner of his lips twitched — so faintly it was almost unnoticeable. But she noticed.

With a triumphant grin, she nudged his shoulder. “Well, Mister Silent, now that I know you can talk, you’re doomed. Because I have so many questions.”

He sighed. He had a feeling that from this day forward, silence would no longer be his only companion.

And, for some strange reason… It didn’t seem so bad.