She stands in the crowded room, her gaze distant, fixed on something that no one else seems to notice. Her face remains stoic, betraying no trace of the chaos that might be swirling inside. People around her talk and laugh, but she doesn’t react, her expression flat, unmoving.

When someone bumps into her, she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t apologize or acknowledge it—just continues on as if nothing happened. The way she moves is deliberate, calculated, and always controlled. No one can tell what’s going on behind her eyes, not even the slightest shift in her posture gives anything away.

Later, when she’s alone, she sits in silence, the world around her still. There’s no outward sign of emotion—no tears, no sighs, just an eerie calm that makes it impossible for anyone to ever guess what she’s truly feeling.