MIRA

To the world, strength is loud, but not to me. Today, as I stand in front of a mirror while the stylists fuss over my hair and Jackson tries to button his cuffs with hands that keep trembling, I realize that strength is silent, it’s like a pulse beneath bruises, and a breath between nightmares. Jackson catches my reflection in the mirror.

“Mira.. you’re shaking,” he says softly.

I don't deny it. “So are you.”

He gives a tired, cracked smile that still manages to warm me. ...