Years earlier, they had been friends—close, easy, the kind of friends who finished each other’s sentences. Elias had loved her even then, but before he could speak, Mira fell in love with a violinist named Julian. Elias attended their wedding, smiled, and congratulated them with borrowed words. That night, he made a quiet vow: he would not burden her with a confession that could only complicate her happiness. So he stopped speaking. Not out of anger, but out of reverence.
Silent. Free. Paper.
It draws from: