06/02/2026
Some stories want to be held, not scrolled.
This chapter was never meant to live only on a screen.
It was written for slow moments, for dog-eared pages, for hands that need something solid when the feelings aren’t.
The paperback is out now with thanks to .
There’s something different about seeing these words printed, the weight of them, the permanence.
Grief doesn’t disappear when you close a book, and neither does this story.
This chapter holds the truth of a girl who lost her father too young, a woman who learned that resilience isn’t pushing through, it’s letting yourself be honest about what still hurts.
It holds illness, surrender, becoming.
Not the polished version, the real one.
If you’ve ever wanted a book you could return to on the hard days, leave on your bedside, or pass to someone who doesn’t yet have the words for what they’re carrying…
This is that version.
The paperback is out now.
Link is in the comments if this chapter is meant to sit in your hands.