Prolouge

"There was once a sound inside me - small, aching, real. He heard it. Then broke it. Now all that's left is the echo."

They say silence is safer.
But I remember how I used to tremble when he touched me - not from love, but from how close he stood to the places I kept locked.

Now the music is gone, and still the string hums under my skin - forgotten, snapped, his.

This is not a story about healing.
This is a story about remembering what it felt like to be unstrung.