In this chapter, I confront an unexpected audience—the silent witnesses of my struggles whom I never knew existed. Their presence, imagined or real, shaped how I carried my pain and how I performed resilience. What happens when we realise we are never truly alone in our battles, and that unseen eyes may echo the very voices we try to silence? Part 4 continues the journey into hidden guilt, haunting reflections, and the slow search for healing.

The past never really rests—it lingers, haunts, and whispers from that endless hallway in our minds. I spent years hiding behind strength, silencing the child in me who once dreamed freely and felt deeply. But healing doesn’t come from erasing those parts—it comes from connection. From allowing the child and the adult to finally sit together in peace. And maybe, just maybe, that’s where the real healing begins.

I can’t remember the exact day it began, only the silence that followed—heavy, cold, filled with shame and guilt I couldn’t name. Little by little, the child in me disappeared. Vulnerability felt like weakness, so I hid behind masks everyone praised. Inside, though, joy faded, and the verdict was always the same: guilty of being too soft, too much. Yet healing, I’ve learned, isn’t forgetting—it’s remembering, grieving, and daring to believe that child may still exist.