Where Words Were Never Spoken

There is a particular kind of grief that doesn't announce itself. It does not arrive in a coffin or with a funeral, yet it buries something holy—slowly, daily, and often unnoticed. This book was born in the quiet spaces where lovers once whispered but now only sigh. It came to life in counseling rooms, beneath tear-soaked pillows, in long, sleepless nights filled with aching questions and no answers.

"When Love Withers in Silence" is not merely a study of relationships. It is an autopsy of disconnection. A slow unraveling of the invisible threads that bind two souls. In writing this, I did not seek to diagnose, accuse, or solve—but to witness. To name what goes unnamed in so many partnerships: the slow death of affection, not by betrayal or violence, but by absence. By silence.

Let this book not be read as judgment, but as reflection. Not as certainty, but as possibility. For even a dying garden can bloom again—with attention, with water, with time.

— Fazal Abubakkar Esaf