Unspoken

Amidst the cold marble of that vast hall, your footsteps struck a rhythmic, solemn cadence that no ear could mistake. The usual cacophony surrounding the podium did not unsettle you; instead, you walked with your spine straight, like a lamp that never dims no matter what wind passes by, giving its light to every passerby without waiting for thanks. You paused before the grand mirror in the lobby before entering. You weren't checking the knot of your tie or the part of your hair, but rather looking at that small scar on the palm of your hand—the mark of silent battles fought alone behind closed...