She was simply a girl with a soft heart and endless warmth. She loved easily and trusted without calculation. There was something gentle about her presence, something that made people feel safe. Beneath that gentleness lived a quiet spark of mischief — a playful energy that kept her from fading into the background.
She was never extraordinary in her studies, never the one people pointed at with pride. She disappointed her parents more often than she meant to, not out of rebellion but out of ordinary imperfection. Still, she believed effort would eventually be enough.
She did not know that life does not measure people by effort alone.
Her days were light then. Laughter stretched from morning to evening, and time moved too quickly for her to notice. Growing up felt distant, almost unreal.
She did not realize that innocence has an expiration date.
And she was standing at its edge.