Short on time? Fancy a skim? Scroll down (up?) until you reach the TLDR banner for the highlights. TW: This book/post explores themes of grief and death.
This post unlocks for free subs on Jan 12
Loved One by Aisha Muharrar is a tender, wry novel about what it means to want connection without quite knowing how to ask for it. With humor and emotional precision, the book traces the interior life of modern love — the hesitations, the hope, the quiet bravery of letting yourself be seen. It’s a story for readers who live in the pauses between texts and conversations, who care deeply and second-guess themselves anyway. In this post, I’m sharing a reflective literary ritual for LOVED ONE, along with book, TV, and film recommendations for anyone drawn to intimate, character-driven stories that honor both vulnerability and wit.
“You may not feel it yet, but at some point, it will hit you. And then you’ll be back to normal, talking to someone, just like we are now, and it will hit you all over again. Grief comes in waves.”
If I had to choose one word to describe my 2025, it’d be burned. I say that as so many bridges I’d planned to venture down and foundations I’d been standing on burned to the ground, sending me tumbling into their ashes. I spent the year feeling buried, my vision blurred, and lungs burning. Any time I started to dust myself off and take a step forward, came more burning, more burying. The weight of which left me with one choice: to push myself to stand up and move forward as I’m actively navigating complex grief.
Like a mouse in a maze, just when I saw a sliver of light beaming over a pathway out, I hit a wall. Be it the lifestyle I’d become accustomed to thanks to a lucrative corporate salary (with affordable healthcare + annual bonus + growing 401k), and the life I’d been building towards with it. And every door that refused to budge after more than 500 job applications…and the fear of being on the verge of losing everything before I’ve even gotten started.
Or the people I’d once come to view as friends, putting my intuition aside as I invested my energy into them, worked to uplift them, and trusted them with the most vulnerable pieces of me.
Facing my parents’ mortalities and therefore, my own, with my mother’s cancer diagnosis and my father’s ongoing state of existing while lost in memories of what was instead of living to create new ones. During my last visit home, his nurse quietly whispered, “he seems comfortable with declining,” one sunny autumn afternoon.
The grief of learning to accept that life isn’t what I thought it’d be by 42. That I’m yearning to experience reciprocated love from a person I’ve yet to meet, but fear I may never. That being a mother to children of my own, feeling their tiny hands grip mine, is a vision steadily fading. That doing well so that I can one day leave this world better than I found it for generations to come, may not come to pass. That perhaps, because of where this country is heading, those dreams of becoming a published author may remain visions in my head simply due to my race, ethnicity, gender, and invisible disabilities.
The thing is, while my grief around those things is real, valid, and tangible, I’m still here. A little worse for the wear, nonetheless, but I haven’t given up. My hope has wavered, sure, but that’s human and a rational reaction to all the things [gestures broadly] that we’ve collectively experienced since November 5, 2024.
There are many things I can’t control, but what I can control is my reactions to the shit that happens and the actions I take in response. I have no fucking clue if I’ll sign a deal with a literary agent, let alone if my stories will ever sit on store shelves and be held in readers’ hands, but that hasn’t stopped me from both writing my first book and connecting with a rather fabulous trio of beta readers. I’m still working on this Substack, posting on a manageable cadence. It may not be one that leads to a large subscriber base or double-digit engagement, but it’s what works for me.
I have no clue whether motherhood to human children is in the cards for me, but until then, I’m a proud mom to a very sassy Pomeranian.
Though my lack of a stable salary situation has forced me to stop financially supporting the non-profits I’ve committed to for years at the level I had been, I’m contributing in (very) small ways. It may not be an impact that makes headlines, but it’s one felt by the lives it’s directly touching.
And while I may not be where I want to be, I’m steadily becoming who I need to be.
As for love and finding my person (cough, Max Minghella), I have no fucking clue how that one’s going to turn out, or how my introverted, homebody self, who refuses to use dating apps, will meet them. On that one, we shall see.
Oh, and as for my 2026 word, I’m leaning towards phoenixing...a renewed version of myself rising from the ashes.
With grief and acceptance being the central themes of this book, I reflected on this for some time, narrowing down what I gleaned from this book:
How far we’ll go and miles we’ll travel for the ones we love.
The pain of regret from the weight of guilt.
To be intentional with our words.
A reminder that time is a gift, not a guarantee. So, tell people what they mean to you, let shit go, live your life.
If you’re drawn to books that feel like a smart, emotionally fluent friend sitting across from you — half joking, half confessing — LOVED ONE is that book.
This is a novel for readers who live inside their heads a little too much. Who’ve experienced grief and ambiguous loss. For people who overthink texts, replay conversations, worry about saying the wrong thing, and still want to believe that love — romantic, platonic, chosen—is worth the vulnerability it demands.
What makes LOVED ONE especially resonant is its emotional accuracy. Aisha Muharrar captures the strange mix of humor, longing, self-consciousness, and sincerity that defines modern relationships, especially for women who are thoughtful, self-aware, and maybe a little anxious about getting things “right.”
This book is for you if:
You appreciate quietly funny writing that doesn’t announce the joke but lets it land naturally
You like stories about connection, awkwardness, and emotional risk rather than big plot twists
You’re interested in how love operates in real life — unevenly, imperfectly, tenderly
You want a novel that feels contemporary without being cynical
There’s a softness to LOVED ONE that feels rare right now. It doesn’t mock vulnerability or rush past discomfort. Instead, it lingers in the in-between moments; the ones where you’re not sure if you’re brave or foolish, but you choose to show up anyway.
For longtime readers of this Substack (thanks, friends), this book fits naturally alongside stories about:
Slowing down and noticing your inner life
Naming feelings without needing to resolve them
Finding meaning in small, human moments
Letting humor coexist with tenderness
And for new readers discovering this space (welcome!): LOVED ONE is a perfect entry point. It reflects the kind of reading life I (try to) cultivate here: intentional, emotionally curious, and open to complexity.
This isn’t a book that tells you how to love better. It’s a book that says: you’re not strange for caring this much — and you’re not alone in it.
4-week reading schedule
Week 1: 1-86 (chapters 1-5)
Week 2: 87-167 (chapters 6-10)
Week 3: 168-254 (chapters 11-21)
Week 4: 255 – 324 (chapters 22-31)
Elevating the literary vibes with a little drink and snack pairing.
An uplift
The Loved One
Tea or mocktail, you do you.
Warm chamomile or lavender tea
Honey + a twist of lemon
Sip while you read the first 20 pages to settle into the book’s blend of humor and heart.
A pastry
Lemon-Lavender Shortbread
Thoughtful and straightforward, pairing well with the tea/mocktail’s calming softness.
I’m no longer much of a journaler per se, but I am a writer, which is basically journaling, as the ideas for my pieces often stem from the reflections on questions that weigh on me in some way. All of which play out in my internal monologue. It’s quite the space to be.
Here’s a literary ritual to try based upon my experience with the book:
Journal Prompt:
Which moments in my life feel like they’re happening “to me” and which feel like I’m narrating them? How does that difference shape how I experience them?
Ritual Action:
Pause, write one sentence of your life as if it were in a novel — then write it again as if it were in a comedy.
Journal Prompt:
Where do I protect myself with humor? Where would I like to be braver — even if it feels uncomfortable?
Ritual Action:
Write a short note to yourself that begins with:
“I would be braver if…”
Don’t overthink it — write the first thing that comes to you.
Journal Prompt:
What does love feel like in my body? In my nervous system? In my choices?
Reflect rather than analyze — write what shows up first.
Ritual Action:
Light a candle or hold a warm mug in both hands — slow your breath — and read your favorite line from the book aloud.
Reflective Prompt:
If this book is a conversation with a close friend, what did it just say to me? What part of that conversation do I need to keep carrying forward?
Write a one-paragraph letter to that part of yourself.
Closing Action
Take a blank card and write one word that felt most alive while reading (e.g., “safety,” “messy,” “hope,” “awkward,” “love”). Pin it somewhere you’ll see it daily for a week.
Closing Affirmation:
Whisper or write:
I allow complexity — in love, in humor, in me.
For additional recommendations, you can find these books in my virtual bookstore*
Read
Watch
TV
Better Things (Hulu)
Feel Good (Netflix)
This Way Up (Hulu)
Casual (Hulu)
Film
The Farewell
Before Sunrise/Before Sunset/Before Midnight
Begin Again
In A World
LOVED ONE by Aisha Muharrar is a quietly funny, emotionally precise novel that explores the interior life of modern love — the overthinking, the longing, the self-consciousness, and the hope. It’s character-driven and intimate, perfect for readers who like relationship stories that feel honest, tender, and deeply human.
Author interview
Fun fact: Aisha was a writer for Parks & Rec (basically, she’s amazing).
And just like that, we’ve reached the end.
Until next time,
Enjoyed this post? Yay! Please remind the algorithm I exist by liking/sharing this post, along with subscribing. Still feeling enthusiastic? Here’s another way to show support to this underemployed aspiring author:
Buy me a coffee via a one-time monetary gift. I can’t guarantee I’ll actually buy myself a coffee (I might?). But I will be eternally grateful for the pearl of a human you are:
Btw, did you know 20% of all monetary gifts (in total) received will be donated annually to a U.S.-based dog rescue of my choosing? The chosen dog rescue will be shared upon completion of the donation. In 2025, the chosen rescue is Old Dog Haven. Look for the dedicated note & IG post to learn more!
*Required disclosure: This link is an affiliate link. Meaning, I receive a smidgen of commish with any purchases made upon clicking this link, all of which come from the indie bookstores serving your local community.
If you need to be budget-conscious right now, I get it, friend (me too). Show your support and head to your local library!
