Every story has a moment before it begins.
A pause. A breath.
Mine starts in the silence between the past and the present. One suitcase waiting, a heart carrying years of silence, laughter, scars, and small victories. People see the smile, the degree, the tidy hostel room. Few notice the roads walked barefoot, the hours spent wondering if I would ever arrive anywhere at all.
This is not a tale of perfect endings.
It is the stitching together of scattered days. Childhood fragments, battles no one clapped for, choices made in empty rooms.
If you open these pages, you will walk with me. From that first midnight cry to the classrooms that waited years later. Some truths are hidden, some names changed, but the heartbeat behind every word is real.