Chapter 3 – The Quiet Storm
Noverin was furious. Not the kind of anger that screams, but the deep, steady kind that simmers beneath the skin, always present. There was a feeling in her chest, one she had carried since childhood, stubborn and unhealed. From the moment she opened her eyes each morning, it was there — like a faint wind brushing across her heart, a reminder that something essential was missing.
She had never known love as others did. Her emotions were measured, controlled. Affection was defined, precise, assigned. Every aspect of her life was organized, predictable, contained. Communication was minimal, deliberate. Words were scarce, always exact.
School had been another arena of control. She worked, she studied, she excelled. No one could doubt her discipline or her achievements. She lived quietly, efficiently, always aware of herself and her limits.
Her family was limited to her mother and her younger brother. Her mother, vibrant but often distant, had recently gone abroad for work, leaving Noverin in charge of the household in a sense, though she never admitted it aloud. Her brother was the opposite of her — energetic, warm, effortlessly charming. He smiled easily, moved freely, filled spaces with light where she preferred shadow. Yet, somehow, they understood each other perfectly. Balance came in unexpected forms.
Noverin worked as a chef, precise and methodical, her hands creating order in the chaos of the kitchen. Her brother was an instructor, his life full of movement, teaching and guiding, yet he never intruded on her carefully drawn boundaries. Together, they maintained a fragile equilibrium, a world contained yet alive, until everything began to shift.