I had spent most of my life learning how to exist quietly in spaces that never fully felt like mine. The fire that took my parents when I was ten also took away the version of me that believed the world was safe. After that night, everything changed in ways I didn’t fully understand at first.
I lost not only them, but also the sense that I moved through life like everyone else. People treated me carefully afterward, as if too much emotion or too many questions might break something already fragile.
By the time I reached high school, I had grown used to the pattern of glances and silence. Teachers spoke gently, always a little too slowly when…
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