There’s a kind of loneliness that doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t scream, doesn’t break things, doesn’t beg to be fixed. It just… settles in. Gently. Slowly. Like fog creeping into your bones. You carry it quietly, so quietly that most people never see it at all.

That’s the kind of loneliness I tried to capture in Fading Into Silence.

This story didn’t start with plot. It started with a feeling—one I couldn’t shake. The ache of being surrounded by people who should love you, people who are supposed to know you… and feeling like a ghost in your own family. That specific brand of grief. The betrayal that doesn’t come from strangers but from blood. The kind that doesn’t end in a fight, just a slow erosion of trust, of warmth, of home.

Fading Into Silence isn’t about big, dramatic betrayals. Not at its core, anyway. It’s about the subtle ones. The ones that leave you doubting your own worth. The ones that are never spoken aloud but sit heavy in the space between you and the people who were supposed to protect you. I wanted to explore what happens to someone when they stop being seen by the people who should have seen them first. I wanted to ask: when loyalty fades, who do you become?

The impact of this story—for me—has been cathartic and a little terrifying. I wrote things I didn’t know I needed to say. I sat with a version of myself I had long avoided. And now, seeing readers resonate with those quieter emotional ruptures—those cracks in the foundation of family and identity—has been humbling. I didn’t know this story would mean anything to anyone else. I just knew I needed to write it down.

What I Hope You Take From This

If you’ve ever felt invisible in the places that were supposed to love you most—this book is for you.

If you’ve ever questioned whether silence was safer than speaking—this book is for you.

If you’ve ever mourned someone who’s still alive, simply because they stopped choosing you—this book is for you.

I don’t have answers. I didn’t write this to fix anything. But maybe there’s power in naming what hurts. In putting language to the silence. In being honest about how lonely it can feel to keep showing up for people who no longer show up for you.

Here's to Fading Into Silence's six month anniversary! Get your copy today.