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Behind the carefully curated image of discipline, however, her body was screaming for mercy. The physical symptoms began as subtle whispers: a nagging headache that wouldn’t fade, a sudden dizzy spell when she stood too quickly, and a persistent chill that no amount of layering could dispel. Eventually, the whispers turned into alarms. Her heart would race erratically in the middle of the night, pounding against a chest that felt increasingly fragile. Her hair began to thin, shedding in clumps that she hid by tying it back in tight, severe knots. Her skin took on a translucent, sallow quality, and the light in her eyes was replaced by a constant, low-grade panic.
