Kalix looked at Elena again—really looked at her.
She was beautiful. Not the loud kind of beauty that demands attention, but the quiet, graceful kind that lingers in your mind long after she's gone.
Intelligent—he saw that in the way she listened, really listened, and spoke only when her words added value.
Soft-spoken, kind, gentle… even with all the weight she carried.
And that's what made his chest tighten.
Then why…
Why was she there, that day, ready to disappear forever?
He wanted answers.
Answers he knew she wouldn't give. Not yet. Maybe never.
Because those answers would cost her. They would shatter the fragile shell she had rebuilt around herself.
She wasn't the kind of girl who could easily say, "I'm not okay."
No. She would sit in front of a mirror, talking to her reflection like it was her only friend.
She would walk herself through the pain, find her own solutions, wipe her own tears.
And when she finally managed to breathe again, she would step out into the world like nothing happened.
Like she was okay.
She would laugh with her friends. Help strangers. Smile in public. But at night, the silence would feel loud.
And even when she looked normal on the outside…
Inside, she was still crawling out of a nightmare.
Kalix gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. He wanted to know everything. Every crack, every bruise in her soul.
But not to judge her. Not to fix her.
Just to remind her—
That she didn't have to go through it all alone anymore.