The early mornings were the best kind of mornings, when the sun was still gentle and the world had not yet remembered to be loud. An Ning settled into her steady jog along the villa path, her breathing even and unhurried.
Running kept her body fit, but more importantly, it gave her something she rarely enjoyed in the public eye: solitude.
No cameras.
No chatter.
No expectations hanging over her shoulders.
Just the soft rustle of leaves, the sound of her footsteps and the cool morning air brushing her cheeks.
Here, she did not need to smile for anyone. She did not need to maintain an image or calculate her expressions. She could simply exist, quiet and unobserved, letting her thoughts drift freely.
She treasured these pockets of peace.
They grounded her.
