A dazzling, electrifying, and thought-provoking novel for readers of Maame and Honey Girl, Things Left Unsaid is a mesmerizing and deeply-felt exploration of discovering your place in the world and the lasting power of love.

When twenty-six year old Shirin Bayat bumps into Kian at a house party in London, she is taken aback by the immediate feelings that resurface. It’s been a decade since they were close friends at school, before painful events pulled them apart, suddenly and seemingly forever. Ever since, Shirin has lived with the aching weight of things left unsaid between them.

Now they’re back in each other’s lives, at a time when Shirin needs someone she can trust the most. Feeling stuck in a sea of slippery friendships and deeply burned out by her publishing job, Kian is a bright light amongst a sea of gray. There’s nothing worse than losing the person you trust most with your deepest secrets and desires, and Shirin and Kian are determined to hold tightly to each other.

But of course, life often has other plans. Will it be different this time around, or are Shirin and Kian destined to fall apart once more?

I received an advance galley of this book courtesy of the publisher via NetGalley. All thoughts are my own.

This is one of those books that creeps up on you quietly and then completely takes over your thoughts for hours after finishing. I picked it up thinking it would be a sweet story about lost friendship and maybe a little romance, but it ended up being so much more: it’s layered, emotional, tender, and unapologetically honest. This is a book that says a lot, even when the characters struggle to say what they truly mean. In some ways, it reminded me a lot of “Normal People” by Sally Rooney.

At the heart of the novel are Shirin and Kian – childhood friends who share an intense bond that fractures after a painful event in secondary school. The author doesn’t reveal what happened right away (which I loved), so you’re kind of piecing together the past and present like a puzzle. The narrative switches between timelines, giving us glimpses of Shirin and Kian as teenagers – full of possibility and closeness – and as twenty-somethings, carrying the weight of everything that’s gone unspoken.

While the novel gives us a look at things from both Kian and Shirin’s points of view, it really felt like Shirin owned the story, but that in no way is meant to minimize the importance of Kian’s character. Kian is an Iranian man who is now an artist trying to make it in a white-dominated industry. His reemergence into Shirin’s life is a shock to her but also a catalyst for growth.

Shirin works at a literary agency that claims to want diversity and inclusivity, but in practice, it’s just a bunch of performative nonsense. It’s so frustrating to watch as her colleagues dismiss her, patronize her, or throw microaggressions her way while still patting themselves on the back for being “progressive.” I think a lot of people – especially women of color – will see themselves in Shirin’s experiences.

The emotional tension in this book is very well done. You feel the ache in Shirin’s heart when she unexpectedly bumps into Kian at a party, and you immediately understand that this is not just a simple “long-lost friend” situation. There’s history here, and it’s likely a messy, complicated, unresolved history. The way the story unfolds and the history is presented feels natural and authentic as if you’re slowly peeling back layers rather than being hit with a dramatic reveal.

And then there’s Rob Grayson. He’s a racist comedian who Shirin and Kiran share a complicated past with from school (he was their biggest bully), and the publisher Shirin works for has recently given him a book deal. Rob is one of those characters who represents every unchecked bigot who somehow gets rewarded with a platform, and his reappearance in Shirin’s life adds a whole new level of tension. It’s not just about past trauma resurfacing – it’s about realizing that people like Rob still get to thrive while others are expected to stay quiet and just deal with it.

But for all the pain and heaviness, this book is also incredibly beautiful. It’s a story about growth and rediscovery. I absolutely loved the dynamic between Shirin and Kian – both as kids and as adults, and I loved watching Shirin find her strength and her voice. The friendship between the two leads felt real, with all its warmth and, awkwardness and longing. You want them to find their way back to each other, but you also understand why it’s not that simple. People change. Life complicates things. And some wounds take longer to heal than others.

If you’re someone who enjoys character-driven stories with emotional depth and a strong sense of identity, this is the book for you. It’s about friendship and love, yes, but also about what it means to be heard, to be seen, and to take up space in a world that often wants you to shrink yourself. This book was quietly beautiful. And sometimes, it’s the quietest stories that leave the loudest impact.