PART I The Quiet Girl
Chapter 1 — The Girl Who Writes in Silence
Isabella "Iza" Ramirez had always believed that the safest place in the world was inside a notebook.
Not a room.Not a home.Not even inside another person's arms.
Just paper.
Because paper never judged. Paper never whispered. Paper never looked at her with disappointment.
It simply listened.
Every morning, she sat in the far corner of the university courtyard, her knees tucked under her oversized sweater, a leather journal resting on her lap. Students passed by laughing, arguing, flirting, living loudly — everything Iza was not.
She preferred watching.
Observing.
Feeling without being seen.
Inside her journal, however, she was fearless.
Her pen moved like a heartbeat:
"I am a quiet storm,hidden in a fragile shell.No one hears the thunder,but it roars inside me."
She closed the notebook quickly when footsteps approached.
"Still hiding in there?"
Iza looked up to see her best friend, Mariel, standing over her with a teasing smile.
"I'm not hiding," Iza murmured.
"You literally sit in the most invisible corner every day."
"I like it here."
Mariel sighed, sitting beside her. "You know, the world won't bite."
Iza didn't answer.
Because the truth was — it already had.
Chapter 2 — Expectations
At home, silence felt different.
It wasn't peaceful.
It was heavy.
Her father believed success meant practicality — law school, stable career, a respectable life. Poetry, to him, was a hobby for dreamers who feared reality.
Her mother was gentler, but her eyes often carried quiet worry.
"Writing won't feed you," her father said one evening at dinner.
"I know," Iza replied softly.
"Then why cling to it so much?"
Because it feeds my soul, she wanted to say.
But she never did.
Instead, she nodded and whispered, "I'll be practical."
And later that night, she cried silently while writing:
"They ask me to be quiet,but silence is where I disappear."
Chapter 3 — The Sound That Changed Everything
The first time Iza heard Celeste Navarro, she didn't see her.
She only heard music.
It drifted through the campus like sunlight breaking through clouds — warm, alive, impossible to ignore.
A guitar.
Then a voice.
Strong. Raw. Unafraid.
Iza followed the sound almost unconsciously.
And there she was.
Celeste sat on the library steps, surrounded by a small crowd, her dark curls catching the afternoon light, her fingers dancing across guitar strings.
But it wasn't just her music.
It was how she felt it.
Eyes closed. Head tilted. Entire body alive with emotion.
She wasn't performing.
She was living.
And when Celeste sang the final note, her gaze lifted — and locked with Iza's.
For one brief moment, Iza felt something terrifying.
Seen.
She quickly looked away.
But it was too late.
Celeste had already noticed her.