There was no music blasting, no bursts of laughter—only a steady, focused quiet.
At first, I took that calm as a sign of maturity.
As the silence stretched on day after day, my imagination began to wander, filling in gaps I didn’t truly understand, until curiosity finally outweighed my hesitation.
When I opened the door, what I found stopped me—not with fear, but with genuine surprise.
The room was scattered with notebooks, bright markers, printed photos, and handwritten pages covering the floor.
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