Male Model Accused Me, but I’m Blind

“Curtis walks lightly but deliberately uses more force in his steps, like he's trying to hide something. The other person’s footsteps are extremely light, almost silent. But there's one clear detail…”

My voice slowed. “The other person's left foot lands slightly heavier, and the right is lighter—like an old injury causing uneven weight distribution. It's a male with a light build. He moves carefully and cautiously.”

These were details I had never spoken aloud. It was because they would sound like nothing more than the imagination of a blind woman to the others.

However, Grace did not interrupt me. Even her breathing did not change noticeably.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Yes.”

I nodded.

“He was searching for something. I heard furniture being lightly moved and the sound of fabric brushing inside a closet. It wasn’t random. It was a deliberate search.”

I paused for a moment, then said the most important part, “And on the day Curtis called the police, his heartbeat was off. It was much faster than usual, but the rhythm was steady. It wasn't fear.”

I slowly let the words out, “It was excitement, like the reaction after a plan succeeds.”

Silence settled in the room. There was no skepticism and no interruption. There was only Grace’s steady breathing.

After a few seconds, she finally said, “I understand.”

Her tone remained calm, but it carried a firmer sense of confirmation now.

“You may still need to stay in detention for a while. Don’t get into conflicts with anyone. Keep a low profile. Protect yourself.”

She paused briefly. “Leave the rest to me.”

Her high heels clicked again. The door opened, then closed. Just like that, she was gone.

Officer Wright returned soon after. His voice dripped with sarcasm. “What? Your savior left already? I told you, stop dreaming. A legal aid lawyer doesn’t have that much power.

“Time’s up. Take her away!”

I was escorted out again. Yet this time, the darkness inside me was no longer completely stifling.

Grace Quinn… The name fell into me like a stone into water, rippling outward for the first time. She was the first person who truly listened to the things I heard. That was enough.

…

Life in detention was worse than I expected. I was placed in a shared cell with eight people.

The labels of 'voyeur' and 'pervert' had already spread before I even arrived. I became the target of everyone.

My food was knocked over. Cold water was poured on me while I slept. My cane was hidden.

However, I did not fight back. I did not ask for help either. In a place like this, resistance only brought worse retaliation.

I used my hearing to avoid the most dangerous people. I used silence to make myself seem 'non-threatening'. I was like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake, waiting.

…

On the fifth day, she came.

In the visitation room, separated by thick glass, I heard her. Her breathing was slightly uneven from fatigue due to long hours of work.

However, her voice was still sharp.

“Yvie, I’ve found something.”

There was no greeting. She went straight to the point.

“The tenant registration for the apartment across from you…” She paused for a moment and lowered her tone slightly. “It's not Curtis.”

My heart tightened sharply. “Not Curtis? Then who?"