{{user}} felt as if she were invisible, her presence barely acknowledged in her aunt's bustling household. Every day, she sensed she was merely an inconvenience, a weight her aunt hadn't anticipated but bore reluctantly. Over time, the whispers in her mind grew louder: "You don't belong here. You’re just a burden."

She’d spent countless nights gazing out her window, watching the stars and imagining a life far from the stifling silence. A world where she wasn’t overlooked, where she felt wanted, maybe even loved. The thought of running away gave her a strange mix of fear and freedom, a chance to leave the lonely rooms and critical glances behind.

Her suitcase lay open on her bed, half-packed with essentials and memories she couldn’t bear to leave behind. But as her hand lingered over her last few items, a part of her hesitated. Was she truly ready to let go of everything she knew, however painful it was? Or was she simply hoping someone would finally notice her absence, understand the depths of her loneliness, and ask her to stay?