Prologue: The Weight Of Ink
The room was silent, save for the rhythmic hum of the ceiling fan and the heavy thud of a heart that had forgotten how to beat for itself. She sat by the window, the glow of the moonlight catching the moisture in her eyes. For eight years, her life had been lived through a screen—a digital mosaic of promises, voice notes, and dreams that now felt like shattered glass.
She picked up a pen, her fingers trembling. People often said that writing heals, that once you pour your soul onto paper, the burden shifts from your chest to the ink. She didn't want to be a protagonist; she just wanted to be empty. She wanted to exhale the ghost of a man who was never really there, yet occupied every corner of her mind.
"This isn't just a story," she whispered to the empty room. "It’s a funeral for the girl I used to be."
She decided then that she wouldn't give herself a name. Names are for people who want to be found. She wanted to get lost in the words until the pain finally stopped screaming.
And so, she began to write—starting from the very first 'Hello' that changed the trajectory of her life and decided to represent herself as 'Author Silent'; she didn't choose any name instead she chose to adopt an unnamed identity and pour out her heart in the most silent way.
