The answer of silence.

"Not every question deserves an answer. Some have limits."

There was a time when a person explained everything.

If they misunderstood, they clarified.

If they accused, they clarified.

If they asked, they answered — even when they weren't really asked.

They believed that words were bridges.

That if they were precise enough, honest enough, patient enough, the other party would arrive.

But after a while, something dawned on them.

It wasn't what they said that mattered.

It was who they said it to.

There were people who didn't expect an answer, but a gap.

Where they could ask back, twist it, ask for another explanation — not for understanding, but for control.

One day the person didn't become quieter.

He just didn't speak.

He didn't get offended.

He didn't close the door.

He just didn't answer where the answer didn't lead anywhere.

At first, it was strange.

The silence is unusually loud.

The other party began to feel uneasy because the usual reaction had ceased.

Then something changed.

Those who approached with pure intentions found the person even in silence.

Those who only wanted an explanation got tired and moved on.

And the person realized: silence is not an escape.

Not answering is not cowardice.

It is a selection.

From then on, he did not explain himself to anyone.

Not because he could not.

But because he no longer had to.

Those who understand, understand even in silence.

For those who do not, all words would have been insufficient.

Silence becomes strength when you no longer remain silent out of fear,

but out of purity.