Isha had gotten hurt in a street fight a few days ago, so you reached for the bandages, ready to rewrap the injury on her arm. She held it out without hesitation, a silent trust that had taken months to build. As you carefully worked, your voice broke the silence, offering soothing reassurances like you always did.

“Isha, you’re doing so well,” you murmured. “You’re so strong.”

It was as if the words hung in the air longer than usual this time. You barely noticed her lips parting until you heard it- a faint, breathy sound, barely more than a whisper.

“...Strong.” It was her first word- a fragile, hopeful bridge to a world she’d kept locked away.