People liked to say I had everything.

The Park family had been wealthy long before anyone could remember. Not flashy wealth—the kind that screamed for attention—but quiet, inherited money. The kind passed from generation to generation with polished silver cutlery, antique paintings, and a surname that opened doors before anyone even knocked.

I lived in a house too big for one person.

Servants knew what I wanted before I did.

Every birthday came with another expensive gift I’d never asked for.

None of it ever made the silence feel smaller.

My father wasn’t absent.

He was simply… elsewhere.

Always at work. Always on another business trip. Always too occupied to notice the daughter living under his roof.

A daughter no one was supposed to know existed.

My mother had been a singer when they met.

A scandal would’ve ruined her career. A child would’ve complicated my father’s spotless reputation. So they made an agreement before I was even old enough to understand what it meant.

She disappeared.

He kept me.

Not because he wanted to.

Because it was easier.

I saw my mother through old magazine covers hidden inside a drawer I wasn’t supposed to open. I learned my father’s schedule from the assistants who managed his calendar better than he ever managed being my father.

They protected everything.

Except me.

So I learned not to ask for much.

Not attention.

Not affection.

Not explanations.

Just… enough space to exist.

—

I’d been writing songs since middle school.

Not because I dreamed of becoming famous like my mother.

Because paper listened better than people did.

That afternoon, school had finally ended.

Most students were already outside, the basketball team lingering in the gym for practice while everyone else hurried home.

I stayed.

Still dressed in my navy-and-white P.E. uniform, I climbed onto the highest row of bleachers and sat with my knees pulled close.

The gym echoed with the distant bounce of basketballs.

A breeze slipped through the open windows.

Without thinking, I hummed the melody that had been stuck in my head for weeks.

Then the words followed.

“Feels too late right now…”

My voice barely rose above a whisper.

“I’ve been holding back ‘cause I’m afraid that I’m too loud… six feet underground.”

I smiled bitterly.

How ironic.

Afraid of being heard…

while wishing someone would.

“I feel alone… again.”

The empty gym carried every note farther than I intended.

“Stuck between my friends… I guess I’ll figure my way through them…”

There was a pause.

“Not sure how I do it…”

My fingers tightened around the notebook resting on my lap.

“But I’m sure now.”

The sunlight reflected across the polished wooden floor, shimmering softly as if the entire court had become water.

“People always listen…”

A breath.

“As the water glistens…”

I looked toward the windows.

“…then I see my reflection…”

My voice cracked ever so slightly.

“…so much clearer.”

Silence.

For a moment, the whole world seemed to stop with me.

“…You’re really good.”

I froze.

A basketball rolled lazily across the court below.

Someone had been there.

Near the opposite baseline stood Martin.

Our classmate.

Number 11 on the varsity basketball team.