No Bruises

Growing up, you dream of Prince Charming— the one who’ll set your heart free. Spinning in hope, you wait for the one who’ll love you right. And then he comes. He’s charming, alright— with soft words, a warm smile, and eyes that learn your every crack. But not every crown shines. Not every prince saves. Some just learn where to press so it hurts without bruises. He never raised his voice— at least not at first. Just small corrections, little rules, words that stung with a smile behind them. "That dress is too much." "I only get mad because I care." "You know how lucky you are, right?" And she believed him. Because love is patient. Love is kind. And she thought if she just loved harder, he’d be soft again. She learned to be quiet before he ever yelled. Knew how to read the room like a battlefield. Every breath, every glance, a calculation to avoid the spark. He never hit her. Not with fists. But silence can strangle. And words can bleed. He carved shame into her skin with a whisper and a glance. "Why do you always ruin everything?" "No one else would love you like I do." "You're lucky I stay." So she stayed. Locked in a house that used to feel like hope, now a cage with good curtains and cold dinners. She smiled in public. Laughed on command. But inside, she was screaming in a language no one else could hear. She stared at the tiled floor, counting her breaths, wondering how long it would take to disappear completely. And when the silence grew too heavy, and the weight in her chest felt sharper than fear— she stopped counting. She left no note. No final words. Just a quiet stillness in a home full of noise. The world kept spinning. Neighbors waved. Her name faded into passing conversation. He cried for cameras. Blamed the stress. Said, “She was always a little emotional.” But the truth sat on that bathroom floor. In the shape of a woman who gave everything until there was nothing left. She didn’t die of heartbreak. She didn’t die by choice. She died because no one believed what he never bruised. She died because silence can be louder than screams. She died because the cage didn’t look like one.