Penelope

“Every night, I unravel my work… and every day, I smile as they beg for my hand. They think me weak. Quiet. Lost without my husband.” She pauses, fingers brushing the thread with ghostly grace “But I have always known one thing: silence is not surrender. It’s strategy.” She stands, smooths her dress, and smiles—like a knife wrapped in silk. “And the game? It’s almost over.”