Chapter 2 – Fragments of a Day
The morning light never reached her bedroom for long. Noverin preferred the shadows, the quiet corners where she could move without being watched. Her day began with the hum of the city in the distance, the faint rhythm of life she observed but never fully joined.
Coffee in hand, she lingered at the window, listening to the world wake, the streets below unfolding like a story she would never read aloud. Music followed her everywhere — soft, deliberate, a rhythm that matched her pace. She moved through her apartment with the ease of habit, precise and controlled, each motion deliberate.
She exercised daily, not for show, but because strength was necessary. Lean muscles flexed and stretched, her body a vessel of discipline and quiet power. Afterward, she showered and dressed in muted colors, simple but sharp, a reflection of the woman who walked through the world untouchable and measured.
The hours were filled with small obsessions: a book carefully chosen, a playlist memorized, the way the sunlight fell across her desk. She wrote occasionally, scribbling fragments of thoughts and emotions she could never voice. Every gesture, every glance, was contained, refined. Nothing escaped her control.
Even in mundane tasks, she remained untouchable. A grocery run, a walk through the streets, the cafe where she sat alone — always observed, always distant, always leaving the faintest trace of herself behind. People noticed the way she moved, the air around her, the scent that clung subtly yet insistently. No one approached too closely, but all were aware. All desired.
And yet, in this solitude, she found clarity. A world of rules, limits, and small rituals that kept her safe, that kept her strong. She didn't need anyone to break the patterns she had set. She didn't need anyone to see her.
Noverin moved through her day like this: deliberate, precise, untouchable — and utterly unforgettable.