Grace Miller never meant to become a ghostwriter forever, but the rent doesn't pay itself, and neither do dreams. When she's offered a high-paying, confidential assignment to finish the final novel of Amelia Hayes-a promising young author who died under mysterious circumstances-Grace can't say no. She's told it's simple: complete the manuscript, stay at the family estate until it's done, and ask no questions. But Amelia's manuscript isn't just incomplete-it's disturbing. Violent. Personal in ways Grace can't explain. The main character mirrors her too closely. The locations feel too familiar. And then there are the notes-new pages appearing overnight in handwriting that isn't hers, and eerie details from the manuscript that begin happening in real life. The deeper Grace goes, the more blurred the line between fiction and memory becomes. Someone is watching. Something is writing. And the truth behind Amelia's death may be written in the ashes Grace is sifting through. Finishing the novel could make her career. It could also cost her life. Some stories are never meant to be finished.

This isn't a loud kind of heartbreak. It's quiet. Subtle. The kind that lives in the pause between two sentences, in the space between what was felt and what was said. These poems come from the silence I learned to sit with-from the weight of unsent messages, the ache of being almost understood. A collection of raw, unfiltered thoughts that never made it past the lips- this is what it would sound like if the heart had a voice. These poems are pieces of silence, grief wrapped in softness, and emotions too heavy to name. For anyone who's ever felt too much and said too little- this one is for you. Sometimes, the loudest parts of us aren't spoken at all.