The room was dim.
Muted streaks of daylight slipped through the gaps in the old wooden shutters, casting faint patterns over the walls.
Dust hung motionless in the silence, save for the muffled tremor that came from beneath the bedsheet bundled in the far corner of the mattress.
Maira lay curled, her body hidden under the faded cover, as if trying to disappear into the fabric itself. But the trembles betrayed her.
So did the soundless, choking sobs that escaped with every breath.
Her knees were drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, as if she was trying to hold herself together—physically, emotionally.
But she was breaking.
Her body flinched again—sudden, violent, like a heart punched from the inside.
A fresh wave of tears soaked the edge of the bedsheet near her cheek, where her face pressed against the fabric, muffling every sound she didn't want the world to hear.
But the pain... it pulsed louder than anything.
She had heard everything.
Everything.
