The Crack Where Light Entered

The house is quiet now, but your throat still burns with the memory of the sound you made hours ago. You touch the place where the crack happened, wishing you could reach inside and pull the vibration back, swallow the shame before it ever left your lips.

But the sound is gone, and you are left alone with the echo, hating the physical sensation of having been heard. In this watch, the darkness tries to convince you that your voice was a mistake, that you should have stayed silent.

Yet the Light that shines in the darkness has not been overcome by your stutter or your break. There is a presence sitting with you in this silence that does not flinch at the sound of your pain.

You are not defined by the moment your voice failed you. The crack was not the end of your story; it was the place where the Light entered.