The morning sun filtered through the cracked window of a modest home, painting faint golden lines across the worn-out floor. In that small house lived a boy named Alex—a boy no one truly noticed, yet one who noticed everything.
He wasn't loud.
He wasn't bold.
He was… quiet.
But silence, in Alex's world, was not emptiness—it was observation.
From a young age, Alex had learned to watch people. The way his father counted money twice before spending it. The way his mother smiled even when she was tired. The way the world moved faster than he could speak.
And so, he chose not to speak much at all.