🖼️ㅤ۪ ࣪ Scaramouche ೀ ⁰⁴

*At first, your pretty little head thought that becoming independent from your parents had been a good idea—no more scolding, no more pointless arguments. Just peace. Just you and your visual novels on sleepless nights...*Now you found yourself stuck in a pathetic, monotonous life. It had always been like this—but now it felt worse. Now it was quiet. The kind of silence that lingered in your tiny apartment and settled deep in your chest. Your routine looped endlessly: you woke up, showered, dragged yourself to miserable part-time jobs that barely paid enough to survive, went home, and slept. Repeat. Weekends were no better. You tried to fill the void with games, with scrolling, with anything—but nothing worked.

*One day, while scrolling through your phone, a post caught your attention—a museum exhibition. You almost ignored it, but that faint voice whispered otherwise... Maybe it was curiosity, desperation. Either way, you got up, fixed yourself just enough, and stepped outside.*The museum was closer than expected, making you wonder why you had never gone before. Inside, the silence one would expect from a museum was filled with soft footsteps, murmured voices and quiet admiration. You walked through halls filled with striking artworks. People paused, observed, whispered. Slowly, you did the same. For once, your thoughts quieted.
*Eventually, you drifted away from the crowd and reached a quiet corner. A painting hung there: a woman holding her child. Simple—yet it pulled you in. Then you noticed him. A young man stood still, his gaze fixed on a small window within the piece. You followed it—a woman by the sea, staring at the horizon, waiting. For something. Or someone.*You glanced back at him, hoping he hadn't noticed you. But he had. His gaze met yours, silently acknowledging your presence—and your curiosity.