From Beirut to Dubai to the West, silence has become the new language of rejection in love, in work, and in friendships. Have we all become a disappearing act?

By Murielle Hebbo Kalash
The first time it happened to me, I didn’t even know there was a word for it. I was in my early twenties, hopeful, open, ready to believe in people. We had been talking for weeks, sharing stories, building something fragile but promising, and then one morning it all stopped. No call. No explanation.

No closure. Just silence that spread into the corners of my day like a shadow. I waited, I checked my phone, I replayed conversations in my head, but nothing came.

At the time, I thought it was just a strange and cruel thing that happened in love. I thought it was about fear, about immaturity, about someone not knowing how to say goodbye. But years later, I realised it was not just about romance. It was everywhere.

And depending on where you live, it even takes on its own cultural flavour. In Lebanon, silence can be almost louder than words, because our culture is built on noise, on presence, on people constantly showing up uninvited at your home to share a cup of coffee.

In Dubai, ghosting often comes dressed in perfection, wrapped in polite phrases like “we’ll keep in touch,” lines that look polished but mean nothing. In the West, it has become so normalised that it is almost expected, a cultural shrug that says, “this is just how it is.”

Today, ghosting is not only a behaviour. It has become a culture of its own.

The Silence of Work
I recall sending my CV to a company that had reached out to me urgently, going through three rounds of interviews, dedicating hours of my time, and even completing an assignment that took up my entire weekend. They praised me, they said I was the right fit, and then they vanished. Not even a polite rejection. Just silence.

And it does not stop with recruiters. I have been briefed by clients who demanded ideas overnight, who promised “more projects to come” if I delivered. I delivered, and then they disappeared the moment I sent the invoice. Emails that once came with urgency suddenly stopped. The phone that once rang every day grew quiet.

Work ghosting cuts deeper than we admit, because it is not just about money. It is about respect. And in cultures where relationships and reputation are everything, silence feels even harsher, because it erases not only your work but the bond you thought existed.

The Distance of Friendships
Friendship once meant consistency, the showing up that was messy and imperfect, but always real. In Lebanon, a friend would stop by with no warning, carrying food or stories, because presence mattered more than convenience. In Dubai, friendships often take place on calendars, carefully scheduled weeks in advance.

Yet ghosting has entered both. A message goes unseen, a call is never returned; the energy fades without warning. There is no big fight, no apparent reason, no explanation. Just a quiet withdrawal, an invisible wall. It may be convenient. It could be a distraction.

Maybe it is selfishness disguised as “you’ll understand.” But what remains is absence, and absence is its own kind of betrayal.

The Cruelty of Love
Of course, love is still where ghosting thrives most. In Lebanon, where families are loud and involvement is constant, ghosting can feel like being cut out of an entire world. In Dubai, it often happens behind the safe distance of screens, hidden by the city’s speed and constant reinvention. In the West, it has become so commonplace that many people no longer even refer to it as cruelty.

One night, you are sharing secrets with someone, telling them stories no one else has heard, and the next day, their name disappears from your phone as if they never existed at all.

We pretend it is not cruel. We tell ourselves it is easier this way. That silence is softer than rejection. But silence leaves scars that rejection does not. Rejection closes a door. Ghosting keeps it half open, leaving you to question yourself again and again.

Why We Disappear
We ghost because honesty is uncomfortable. Because silence feels easier. Because we do not want to face the heaviness of someone else’s feelings. Because confrontation asks for courage, and courage is not always convenient.

But ghosting is not about sparing others. It is about sparing ourselves. It is about escaping the mirror of responsibility, the weight of truth, the vulnerability of being human.

A World of Ghosts
And so here we are, living in a world full of ghosts. Ghosts of lovers who once promised forever. Ghosts of friends who left without a word. Ghosts of recruiters who vanished after weeks of false hope. Ghosts of colleagues who drained us of our energy and then disappeared the moment they no longer needed us.

They haunt us not because they left, but because of how they went. Without honesty. Without closure. Without the dignity of a final word.

And the tragedy is that we accept it. We laugh about it. We post memes about it. We do it ourselves. We have built a culture where vanishing has become the norm, where silence has replaced courage, and avoidance has become the default.

The Question That Remains
So I sit with this thought, and I cannot escape it. If we keep ghosting each other in work, in love, in friendship, if we continue to perfect this disappearing act, then are we really building relationships at all, or are we only rehearsing the art of vanishing?

Because sooner or later, we must admit that silence is not neutral. Silence is a language, and it speaks loudly. It tells us how little we value honesty. It tells us how afraid we are of one another. It tells us that the connection has become fragile in our hands. And if ghosting is the language we continue to choose, then what kind of stories are we leaving behind, and what stories will never be told because we never found the courage to say the words?

Murielle is a Lebanese writer and senior bilingual copywriter based in Dubai. She writes about the quiet side of expat life. With over 8 years in creative agencies, she’s now more drawn to stories that can’t be pitched. Her work explores identity, disconnection and the search for meaning in foreign cities. Murielle believes the most powerful writing doesn’t impress; it connects. Her first contribution can be found here.