GwenI learned, slowly, that silence frightened people more than rage ever could. The Cruise villa had always been loud. Voices overlapping, footsteps echoing, glass clinking against marble like punctuation marks in conversations that never truly ended. Even after my return, after the months where everyone spoke around me instead of to me, the noise had remained a constant. A shield, perhaps. Or a way to avoid listening. One morning, I broke the rhythm.I joined breakfast late, not dramatically, not apologetically. I wore a simple dress, pale blue, my hair loosely tied back. Nothing sharp. Nothing defiant. I took my seat, poured myself tea, and said nothing.My mother glanced at me twice. “Did you sleep well?” she asked eventually, her voice was careful in the way people sound when they are afraid of breaking something already cracked. “I slept,” I replied. Not a lie. Not the truth either.She nodded, relieved, and turned back to her plate. Conversation resumed around me, business, s
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