A Letter to My First Reader

Dear friend,

This book is both a cry and a whisper.
A cry, because war tore my family out of bed at 5 a.m. on 24 February 2022 and nothing has been truly quiet since.
A whisper, because somewhere under the rubble I still hear the small voice that says live anyway.

I wrote Life Beyond Fear to remember, to understand, and—honestly—to stay sane. It traces nine years of upheaval: the first shells in 2014, the full-scale invasion in 2022, our flight across Europe, the long exhale in America. It also honours the flashes of joy that somehow survived alongside bomb sirens, empty supermarkets, and the guilt of being alive when others are not.

If you have ever packed a suitcase you never meant to pack, or lain awake wondering whether courage is even real, this story is for you. I hope these pages feel less like a memoir on a shelf and more like two children meeting on a playground: no fear of strange accents, just curiosity and stubborn hope.

This is where the story begins.