The first light of dawn crept silently into the room, slipping through sheer off-white curtains that fluttered with the hum of the old ceiling fan. Stephanie stirred, her cheek pressed into the pillow, lashes sticking faintly from sleep. She didn’t move at first. The bed was warm, the silence thick. For a few seconds, it was easy to pretend the world outside didn’t exist.
Writing has always been my escape—my way of turning pain into poetry and silence into stories. With your support, I hope to invest more time and resources into my storytelling journey: better editing, creating beautiful cover art, eventually self-publishing my novels, and maybe even bringing my fictional men to life in a cozy little paperback world. Every bit of your love helps me stay consistent, feel seen, and believe that my voice—though shaped by heartbreak—is still worth hearing. This is more than just writing for me… it’s healing, and I’m so grateful you’re part of it. 💖
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