She walks through the world with quiet strength, a fierce heart bearing wounds unseen. Shadows have settled on her shoulders like a heavy shroud, woven from loss, doubt, and the echo of words unspoken. She wears it not as surrender but as armor, her own fragile fortress against the storm.
There are days when the darkness feels endless, when even the simplest breath feels like a battle. The weight of worry, the ache of solitude, the silent fear of not being enough, each thread of her struggle is stitched into the fabric of her being. And yet, she stands. She works. She gives. She carries Kindness in hands that tremble, showing up for others when she cannot show up for herself.
But she is not alone.
Even in the quiet, even in the shadows, love Reaches for her. It waits In the glow just beyond the veil, in the spaces where warmth lingers. She lifts her gaze, the Shroud slipping from her grasp, and for a moment, just a moment, she sees herself as we see her. STrong. Brave. Enough.
The light does not demand. It does not rush. It simply waits, unwavering, for the day she steps forward, unburdened.
And when she does, she will know she was Inevitable. She was Never truly lost. Never truly unseen. Never truly alone.