She was seventeen, as pretty as a doll, and as lifeless, sitting in the window, staring out, unseeing, over the beautiful countryside. She didn’t turn when the door opened and a nurse came in, with a middle-aged man. He had an air of joviality that sat oddly with his cold eyes.

“How’s my best girl?” he greeted the doll by the window.

She neither replied nor looked at him.

“I’ve got someone to see you, precious.” He turned to a young man standing behind him and said curtly, “Make it quick.”

He was eighteen, still a boy. His hair was tousled, he looked as though he hadn’t shaved for days, and his eyes were wild with pain and anger. He went quickly to the girl and dropped on his knees beside her, speaking in an imploring voice.

“Sweetheart—it’s me. Look at me, please. I’m so sorry—they say our child is dead —can you hear me?”

She turned her head and seemed to look at him, but there was no recognition in her eyes. They were lifeless.

“Listen to me,” the boy implored. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I am so sorry.”

She was silent. He reached up a hand to brush her dark hair aside. She did not move.

“I didn’t see our baby,” he said huskily. “Was she pretty like you? Did you hold her? Please say something.”

But she said nothing, merely stared out of the window. He dropped his head into her lap, and the only sound in the room was his sobs.

So decided that the first idol for my female idol series will b