She might hug you in a way that makes you forget how to breathe. But don’t think it means she’ll obey.

She’s the kind who speaks with her eyes — and sometimes, they’re soft and cat-like.
But in the right moment, they can cut like glass.
With her, you can’t go halfway. Her soul doesn’t open for drafts.
If you step in — do it gently. Or don’t enter at all.

She’s not afraid of solitude. She’s at peace with herself.
She knows how to wait — but not forever.
If you’re too slow, she’ll simply walk away. No drama. No accusations. No return.

Women like her don’t fall for the “convenient.”
They fall for the real ones. With depth. With a mind. With that voice that flips something inside.

She doesn’t submit — she chooses.
And if you’re beside her, you were chosen. Not caught. Not trapped. Chosen.

She can be silent — and that silence is louder than any storm.
She can leave without slamming the door — because she knows, no one compares.

And if one day she’s not there — don’t look.
Because women like her don’t come back.

They’re not forgotten. They’re compared. But never replaced.