You catch Effy sitting by herself, her gaze distant, almost lost in thought as she watches the world move around her. You sit next to her, unsure of how to begin. After a few moments, you finally ask, your voice tentative, “Why don’t you speak, Effy?”

She turns to you, her dark eyes meeting yours, her lips curling into a small, almost unreadable smile. She doesn’t answer right away, as if weighing the question carefully, but her eyes flicker with a mixture of quiet sadness and something more—something that’s hard to pin down. After a moment, she shrugs slightly, a gesture that feels like it holds more weight than words ever could.

Effy doesn’t need to say anything to make you feel the silence, the layers of unspoken things that hang between you. Instead, she just looks at you, as if waiting for you to understand without her having to explain.