Chapter 1
The newsroom was wrapped in a controlled calm, the kind that hides chaos beneath professionalism. Under the harsh studio lights, the news anchor spoke in a steady, measured tone as he read out a breaking story. Behind him, the large screen displayed blurred footage of a railway station—people running, voices shouting, emergency responders moving quickly through the crowd. A 22-year-old girl had been rescued just seconds before stepping in front of an oncoming train. The report continued as usual, but the weight of what had happened lingered heavily, as if the words themselves were not enough to carry it.
But the story didn’t end there.
Later, silence replaced the noise of the newsroom.
A hospital room now held the same girl.
She lay on a narrow bed, pale and motionless, her wrist carefully bandaged, her face turned slightly toward the dim light falling through half-closed curtains. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room, steady yet fragile, as if even that could disappear at any moment.
A police officer stood near the bed, holding a small notebook. His posture was calm, but his eyes carried concern. He had been instructed to take her statement, but something about her silence made the task feel heavier than expected.
He spoke gently.
“Can you tell me what happened today? Why you stepped onto the tracks?”
No answer.
Not even a flicker of reaction.
Only silence.
He waited for a moment before trying again, lowering his voice further, as if softer words might reach her where louder ones had failed.
“You are safe now… but we need to understand what led you there.”
Still nothing.
Her gaze remained distant, fixed on nothing in particular, as if her body was in the room but her mind was somewhere far away—somewhere unreachable.
And then, slowly… something shifted.
Her fingers, resting loosely on the bedsheet, tightened almost imperceptibly. Her breathing, once shallow and uneven, began to tremble. It wasn’t dramatic, not sudden—it was quiet, internal, like something buried deep inside her had started to move after being still for too long.
The officer noticed the change but did not interrupt.
Because now, she was no longer just silent.
She was remembering.
Fragments began to surface in her mind without warning.
A dining table filled with people talking over each other while her voice went unnoticed. Moments where she tried to speak but was gently dismissed. Days where she waited for someone to choose her first, but the choice always went somewhere else. Birthdays that felt incomplete even in a crowded room. Nights where she cried quietly so no one would ask questions she knew no one truly wanted answers to.
Not hatred.
Not anger.
Just a slow, deep ache of never being priority.
Her eyes gradually filled, the tears arriving softly at first, then continuing without control. One became two, then more, until her face reflected everything she had never been able to express. The officer remained silent now, realizing that any question at this point would only break something already fragile.
Her breathing grew heavier. Her body felt weaker, as if carrying those memories had drained whatever strength she had left. The room around her felt distant, fading at the edges, as though reality itself was slipping away.
And just before everything disappeared completely, her lips moved—barely, painfully, as if the words were breaking through something thick inside her.
“I… wanna be… your first priority…”
Her voice cracked into silence.
And then, everything went still.
