**LILA POV**
I stop shrinking myself.
The realization comes quietly, not as a declaration or a turning point anyone else would notice. It happens one morning when I catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror, toothbrush paused at my lips, shoulders subtly angled inward like I’m bracing for something that hasn’t happened yet.
I straighten without thinking.
It feels strange. Like stepping into a posture I forgot was mine.
“Right,” I murmur to my reflection, toothpaste still foaming at the corner of my mouth. “We’re not doing that anymore.”
The woman in the mirror doesn’t argue.
I stop explaining.
I stop offering context before anyone asks for it. Stop preemptively clarifying my tone, my intent, my presence. I don’t soften statements to make them easier to swallow. I don’t chase under
