They say every story begins with a dream — but what if the dream is buried before it even breathes?
I have seen women live without living, speak without being heard, and smile while bleeding within.
This is not a story of one woman; it is the voice of millions whose throats have been tied with the rope of society’s expectations.
This is not fiction. This is truth dressed as a narrative.
This is her — the woman who raised the world, and still, the world questions her existence.
Every society writes rules, but few write justice.
Every home has walls, but few have hearts.
And every woman carries a story — a story no one asks about.
I have seen the pain of being a woman, the courage it takes to wake up every morning, and the silent wars she fights every night.
This story is not a tale — it’s a confession of generations.
It’s not an attempt to prove anything; it’s a reflection of what already exists — hidden in plain sight.
This book belongs to her — the woman who stands quietly behind every success, who is both the wound and the healer.
She is not just part of this world; she is this world.
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