Janice’s heart raced every time her phone chimed with a message from Colin. Their conversations had become the best part of her day, filling her with warmth and excitement. Their connection felt real, effortless, like something straight out of a novel.
But a shadow of fear lingered over her happiness—the secret she had yet to tell him. She was blind. And as their first date crept closer, that fear turned into a storm inside her chest. How long could she keep the truth hidden? What would happen when Colin realized the world she navigated was one he couldn’t see?
Sitting at her desk in the dim glow of her computer screen, Janice traced the familiar layout of her keyboard with her fingertips. Her screen reader’s robotic voice broke the silence, reading out Colin’s latest message.
“Message from Colin: I love that author. One winter, I read nearly ten of his books. ‘Love is War’ is my favorite. What about you?”
A smile tugged at her lips. She let out a soft laugh, picturing the message in her mind as she reached for the keyboard.
“Dictate a message,” the screen reader prompted.
“Good choice,” she said, her voice light and warm. “I might’ve picked that one too, but I really loved ‘The Princess’s Favorite.’ I remember bawling at the ending and couldn’t stop for hours.”
“End message. Send,” she confirmed, hearing the satisfying beep of the message being delivered.
Her fingers lingered on the keys as a warmth spread through her chest. Talking to Colin had become her favorite part of the day. They had met online weeks ago, and from the very first message, something had just clicked.
Books were their common ground, a safe space where they could lose themselves in stories and exchange favorite quotes late into the night. But it wasn’t just books. They talked about dreams, fears, childhood memories, and even silly things like the best pizza toppings.
There was just one thing Janice couldn’t bring herself to share.
Twice, Colin had asked to meet in person. Twice, she had dodged the invitation, making up excuses about work or errands. The truth was far simpler but much harder to say out loud: she wasn’t ready to tell him she was blind.
Her phone chimed again.
“Message from Colin: Wait, you listen to books? You love audiobooks? That’s interesting—I just can’t get into them. I need to hold the book, feel the pages, smell the paper. That’s how I really enjoy a story. Don’t you feel the same?”
Janice’s smile wavered. Her fingers clenched slightly as she hovered over the keyboard. He didn’t know. Of course, he didn’t. How could he? But his words cut deeper than she expected. They reminded her of all the things she couldn’t do, all the ways her world was different from his.
“Dictate a message,” her screen reader prompted.
Janice took a shaky breath.
“Colin, I have to confess,” she started, her voice trembling. “I’m blind. I can’t read regular books, so I rely on audiobooks.”
Her throat tightened. What if this changed everything? What if he saw her differently after this?
“Delete message,” she said quickly, panic gripping her.
“Message deleted. Dictate a message,” the robotic voice repeated.
“I just love listening to books while multitasking,” she said instead, forcing a casual tone.
“End message. Send,” she whispered.
She leaned back in her chair, pressing her palms into her face. She couldn’t keep hiding forever. But how could she tell him? This connection felt too precious to risk.
Another chime.
“Message from Colin: You keep surprising me. Hey, I have tickets to a movie premiere this weekend. Want to come with me?”
Janice’s breath caught. Her fingers trembled over the keyboard.
This was it.
She couldn’t keep avoiding him.
“Yes, I’d love to,” she finally typed.
The message sent, and she leaned back with a mix of excitement and dread.
She had to tell him. But not yet.
On the day of their date, Janice arrived at the mall two hours early. She gripped her white cane tightly, listening to the echo of footsteps and the chatter of shoppers. The mall was huge, the ceilings high, sounds bouncing off the walls unpredictably. She needed to prepare.
A security guard stood near the entrance. Taking a deep breath, she approached him.
“Hi,” she said, clearing her throat. “Could you help me find the theater? I’d like to practice the route before meeting someone.”
The older man nodded kindly. “Of course. Let me walk you there.”
He guided her carefully, his voice steady as he described each turn.
“Twenty steps straight, then a right turn, fifty more steps to the escalator,” she whispered, committing it to memory.
After practicing the route twice, she felt confident enough. The security guard smiled.
“You’ve got this,” he said.
Janice smiled weakly. Did she?
Her biggest challenge wasn’t navigating the mall. It was hiding her blindness.
As the meeting time approached, she stood outside, sunglasses on, her cane discreetly tucked into her bag. Her heart pounded.
“Janice?” a warm, friendly voice called.
“Colin!” she said, forcing excitement while anxiety twisted inside her. She stepped forward, opening her arms for a hug. Relief flooded her when he embraced her without hesitation.
“It’s so great to finally meet you,” he said. Then he hesitated. “But… sunglasses? On a cloudy day?”
“Oh,” she scrambled for an excuse. “My eyes are really sensitive to light. I wear them all the time. I hope that’s okay.”
“Not a problem at all,” Colin replied easily.
As they walked inside, Janice focused on counting her steps while keeping up the conversation. But when they reached the escalator, she faltered.
“Wait!” she blurted, panic creeping in.
“What’s wrong?” Colin asked, concerned.
“Uh, I just feel a little dizzy,” she lied. “Could you help me to the cinema?”
“Of course,” he said, slipping his arm around hers.
Her heart pounded. How long could she keep this up?
The movie started. Janice tried to follow the story through sound alone, but action scenes blurred together.
“Isn’t that shot amazing?” Colin whispered. “See how they angled the camera?”
“Yeah… stunning,” she mumbled.
“What stands out to you most in this scene?” he asked eagerly.
Janice hesitated.
“Colin,” she whispered, “let’s talk after the movie, okay?”
When the credits rolled, Colin turned to her.
“There wasn’t a boat, Janice,” he said quietly. “Why are you lying?”
She froze.
“Why won’t you even look at me?” he pressed.
Tears welled up. “Colin, please—”
“No more lies.”
She whispered, “I’m blind.”
Silence. Then, Colin exhaled.
“You should’ve told me,” he said gently.
“Can we start over?” she asked, hope flickering.
Colin smiled.
“As long as you promise—no more secrets.”
