𝔗𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔐𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔶𝔞𝔫

Sat, 13 Sep 2025 03:50:34 +0000

“You wrote about pain like it was poetry,” he said, eyes fixed on the sculpture in the corner.

She blinked. “You read my letters?”

He nodded. “Every one of them. Before I even knew your name... I knew your silence.”

“And yet you said nothing?”

“Because your words weren’t asking for answers. They were asking to be heard.”