Janice’s heart fluttered with excitement whenever she received a message from Colin. They seemed to connect on a genuine level, but she harbored a secret—she was blind. As their very first date drew near, anxiety sunk its claws into her. How long could she keep her blindness hidden from Colin? Could she maintain the façade long enough to win him over?

Sitting in a dimly lit room, Janice positioned herself in front of her computer, the screen glowing softly in front of her. Her fingertips gently hovered above the keyboard, a grin playing on her face as her screen reader’s robotic voice filled the space.

“Message from Colin: I love that author. One winter, I devoured about ten of his books. My favorite is ‘Love is War.’ What about you?”

A chuckle escaped her lips while she listened, visualizing his words. With a practiced hand, she navigated the keyboard to compose her response.

“Dictate a message,” the robotic voice encouraged.

“Great pick!” she began cheerfully. “I almost chose that one too, but ‘The Princess’s Favorite’ was the one that got me. I was weeping for hours after I finished it.”

“End message. Send.”

A familiar warmth embraced her as the message was delivered. By now, chats with Colin had become the highlight of her day.

They had crossed paths just weeks earlier online, but from the very first message, something clicked. Discussing books, sharing meaningful passages until late, it was about more than just stories. They spoke about life, ambitions, even mundane things like their go-to pizza toppings. But one thing remained unspoken.

Colin had invited her to meet face to face twice, and each time, she faltered. She crafted tales of work or obligations, though the truth was simpler yet more daunting—she was afraid to admit she was blind.

The screen reader chimed back to life.

“Message from Colin: Audio books, huh? Interesting. I can’t wrap my head around them. I adore holding a book, feeling the pages under my fingertips. Don’t you?”

His words felt like an anchor, and her hand clung tightly to the keyboard. Of course, he didn’t know. How could he? Yet, the truth punched harder than expected.

All those palpable sensations he cherished were foreign to her. They embodied the differences in their worlds.

“Dictate a message,” the computer urged.

She drew a shaky breath. “Colin, I have a confession.” Her voice quivered. “I’m blind. Audiobooks are my only means to enjoy stories.”

As the words lingered, vulnerability wrapped around her chest. Her heart raced. Would this change things between them? Would he begin to view her differently?

“Delete message,” she hastily instructed, panic stealing her resolve.

“Message deleted. Dictate a message,” the voice reassured.

She swallowed hard. “I love multitasking while indulging in audiobooks,” she managed, painting herself as unruffled.

“End message. Send.”

The message escaped her lips as she leaned back, shoulders sagging under the weight of withheld truth. She couldn’t persist this way. But how to tell him? Years had passed without a connection like theirs, and risking it over something she couldn’t control was terrifying.

Another chime disrupted her train of thought.

“Message from Colin: Ever full of surprises. I’ve got movie premiere tickets this weekend. Care to join me?”

Her breath caught. She hesitated, heart pounding as her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

This was the moment. She couldn’t keep stalling. Yet fear still threaded through her.

“I’d be delighted,” she finally typed. Message sent, anticipation mingled with dread.

The truth loomed. But for now, hope cradled her fragile heart that maybe, just perhaps, it would be alright.

Blindness wasn’t unfamiliar to Janice. Time lent her the skills to manage tasks that once seemed daunting.

She maneuvered through her neighborhood with assurance, hailed cabs without pause, tackled daily tasks seamlessly. Yet, venturing into new areas, like the vast mall housing the theater, kept her on edge. Filled with anxiety, she prepared carefully.

Arriving two hours early, Janice gripped her white cane, hearing the bustling sounds of passing footsteps and chatter echoing through the massive space.

The expansive mall had towering ceilings that exaggerated every sound. Approaching a thoughtful-looking security guard at the entrance, she steeled herself for conversation.

“Hello,” she greeted, voice firm.

“Can you guide me to the theater? I’d like to practice walking there before meeting someone.”

“Certainly. Let me show you the way,” the kindly older voice responded.

He patiently led her through the maze-like mall, helping her mentally chart the route.

“Twenty steps, right, then fifty more to the escalator,” she memorized aloud. Reaching the theater, they backtracked to the entrance together.

After a couple of practice runs, confidence began to settle alongside the tightness in her gut.

“Good luck,” the guard wished as he left. “You’ll do just fine.”

She gave a tentative smile, uncertain if he fully grasped her unease. Her plan felt fragile. How could she mask her blindness on a date without slipping up? Would Colin notice? The thought alone had her hands quivering.

As the meet-time drew near, Janice waited outside the mall, sunglasses perched on her nose, her cane stashed discreetly in her bag. Her pulse quickened each passing minute.

“Janice?” a warm voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts.

“Colin!” She exclaimed, faking delight though nerves knotted her insides. She had never heard his voice, but she needed to pretend recognition came naturally, extending her arms warmly.

His embrace brought relief. “It’s marvelous to meet you finally,” he declared, then hesitated. “Cloudy—why the shades?”

“Oh,” She improvised hastily, “my eyes are quite light-sensitive. It’s a habit.”

“Not a problem,” Colin replied, accepting her explanation without issue. His ease relieved some anxiety, but it refused to dissipate entirely.

Inside the mall, she counted meticulously, far from simple when mingling conversation seamlessly. Colin chatted away about the film and details, while she struggled with inward focus. Somehow, she lost track of her steps.

When reaching the escalator, hesitation seized her. One misstep was all it took.

“Wait!” She erupted, unable to disguise the panic.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, showing concern.

“I… just dizzy, could you aid me to the cinema?” She fibbed, seeking cover.

“Of course,” he comforted, looping his arm gently around hers. His touch steadied her, yet guilt overshadowed her.

How long could she sustain this deceit before discovery? How long until trust deteriorated into doubt?

Reaching the cinema at last, she exhaled quietly. For now, her secret lay intact. But instinct whispered it wouldn’t stay buried.

Finding their seats offered some reprieve, but she remained guarded. Listening alone made following the plot tricky. Action scenes particularly muddled comprehension.

“Incredible shot, don’t you think?” Colin enthused, voice lowered intimately. “Notice the camera angle?”

“Absolutely, stunning!” she echoed, praying he wouldn’t delve deeper.

“What’s most striking here?” His eagerness begged.

“It’s tough to pinpoint,” she attempted lightly.

“No overthinking, just say it.”

“Colin,” she pleaded softly, “let’s chat after?”

“Okay,” he conceded, hinting subtle disappointment.

When credits rolled, he twisted towards her, grinning. “So, thoughts?”

“Good film, lots of visual beauty,” she replied carefully.

“Agreed. Remember when the hero escaped the basement—what about that bit?”

“Oh, yes,” She fibbed, nodding. “Intense!”

“And getting to the boat?” Colin probed.

“Right… boat,” she fumbled, embarrassment heating her face.

“There wasn’t any boat, Janice,” he stated, with composed sharpness.

She froze, reality crashing down.

“Why lie?” His voice steady but probing. “Why avoid eye contact?”

“It’s misunderstood, Colin,” she stammered.

“What then?” he countered. “Feels like you’ve dodged me the entire time.”

She teared up. “Please—”

“No,” he halted her. “Our connection online felt genuine. Now… can’t tell if you’re truly interested.”

He stood to leave, words catching in her throat.

I stumbled into the theater lobby, leaning on the wall for stability.

“Colin!” I cried desperately.

“Need help?” A kind voice asked nearby.

“Yes,” I sighed, longing. “My date, his name’s Colin.”

“Can you describe him?” came her reply.

Outside, the kind stranger guided me, but he was absent.

Desperate, I called out. “Colin!”

No response.

Despair dragged me to a bench, head in hands, tears streaming. Everything felt broken.

Then, someone joined me.

“You’re blind, aren’t you?” he murmured.

“Yes,” I confessed.

“Why hide it?” His tone softened.

“Scared,” voice trembling. “Afraid to lose you.”

He spoke gently. “No need. But keeping secrets is another matter.”

“Sorry,” I sniffled. “Can we start again?”

He nodded, faint smile. “Promise there’ll be no more secrets?”

“Deal,” I affirmed, hope igniting within.

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