Dear Readers, I always believed that the truth would be enough. That if I stayed honest, did no harm, and lived with integrity, life would be fair. But I was wrong. No matter how good I was, I found myself pushed aside, my words unheard. It was always a one-sided story, and I was never the one telling it. People judged without asking, assumed without knowing, and condemned without hesitation. And the worst part? They never wanted the truth, never wanted to understand, and wanted a version that fit their narrative. I told myself I didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. That my actions spoke louder than rumors. But life has a cruel way of making you feel like you must defend yourself, even when you’ve done nothing wrong. Silence, I learned, is not seen as dignity; it’s taken as guilt. One evening, I was sitting alone in a quiet café, lost in my thoughts, when an old acquaintance, Noah, walked in. He hesitated before sitting across from me, studying me with uncertain eyes. "I don’t...
