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**unlike him**, the world is not bowing for them. The door is not magically open. Smile has been released. He went in peace and she had to prove herself every time - her voice was a little louder, her steps were a little stiff, and her silence was misunderstood as weaker than wisdom.
He was the kind of person who liked people before he spoke. This easy charm. Disarming laughter. People accepted his best - mistakes were awarded before they were registered. Meanwhile, she had to gain trust little by little, like a brickwork with bricks placed in the darkness.
In contrast to him, she did not believe in abbreviations. He cut the corners, but there was still applause. It remains late, double check, -fed, triple notes. It wasn't jealous - at least she said to herself - but something deeper, whispered: "Why should I work hard to see half?" *
He could laugh at things. If you retreat, shrug. She felt that everyone had failed, like a stone in her stomach. And when people told her she should be like him, she smiled politely and nodded, but she cried. Because he was going to destroy everything she got - she.
But that was probably the most important difference. In contrast to him, she doesn't let her slip through life. She turned her eyes, hurt, but steadily. And somehow she was proud of it.
She did it even if no one else noticed.