Before, she couldn't walk past a flower without stopping to admire it.
Today, she walked past an entire garden without lifting her eyes.
Everyone expected her to be okay because she was alive.
Visitors came and said things like:
"You're strong."
"At least you're alive."
"Everything happens for a reason."
She smiled politely.
She learned to act like she was okay.
She laughed when she was supposed to.
She answered, "I'm fine."
She went back to school.
Everyone said,
"She's getting better."
"She's so strong."
But when they were gone, she stared at the ceiling for hours.
Her favorite meal lost its taste.
Food went cold beside her.
She heard laughter outside her room and felt as though she was watching life through a window she could never open again.
She avoided mirrors.
She used to sing while doing chores.
Now the house was silent.
But then there was him.
Mr. Christopher.
Her stepfather.
Even in her darkest hours, he brought no speeches.
No "Everything will be okay."
He simply stayed.
Always present.
Always carrying a smile that couldn't quite be explained.
And somehow...
it made the silence feel a little less heavy.
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