CHAPTER 139 — THE DAY SILENCE BROKE ITS PROMISE
Silence had always been sold as safety.
Not loudly. Not formally. It was never written into law or announced from podiums. Silence worked because it didn't have to explain itself. It slipped into systems like air into sealed rooms—unnoticed, assumed, necessary.
For decades, it was the unspoken agreement between power and the people beneath it: Do not ask too much, and nothing will fall apart.
Silence smoothed over fractures before they could widen. It delayed consequences long enough for memories to dull. It kept hands clean by ensuring no one had to admit where they'd been placed. It kept names unspoken, which meant no one had to carry weight alone.
Silence made survival possible.
But silence had a promise hidden inside it.
A promise no one ever said out loud.
That nothing would ever change.
On the morning that promise broke, no alarms sounded.
No emergency notices flashed across screens.
