Maybe people just don’t understand
July 10, 2025 at 5:43 PM
Isara hummed softly as she arranged fresh lilies in the vase by the window. The soft morning light caught the delicate purple bruises along her arm, but she didn’t think much of them—they were just part of her, like the gentle ache that sometimes lingered in her joints.
She heard the faint murmur of voices drifting from the garden below. Curious, she stepped closer to the window and caught fragments of conversation carried on the breeze.
“Have you seen her bruises? It’s heartbreaking,” a woman whispered.
“Alarion must be terrible to her,” another voice said, sharp and certain.
Isara’s brow furrowed, but she shook her head gently. Why would anyone say such things? she wondered. She thought of Alarion’s warm smile from last night, the way he held her hand so carefully when she winced.
She wanted to believe in the love they shared—strong, pure, and unbroken.
Maybe people just don’t understand, she thought, turning away from the window.
She brushed the worries aside like dust. There was no room for doubt here, not in her heart.
