Bella learned quickly that attention was not a single thing.
It wasn’t just the articles or the comments or the way her name had become searchable in ways it never had been before. It was subtler than that. More invasive.
It lived in the pauses during conversations.
In the hesitation before emails were answered.
In the way people measured their words around her, as if she were fragile—or worse, contagious.
She refused to shrink.
That morning, she arrived at the studio early, coffee in hand, shoulders squared. The familiar smell of paper and ink steadied her, but even here, the atmosphere had shifted. Conversations lowered when she passed. Someone laughed too loudly at a joke that wasn’t funny.
Bella sat at her desk and opened her laptop, forcing herself into the rhythm of work.
Des
