Here’s a brief narrative to illustrate silent gaslighting as a form of control without accountability:

“Anna and the Vanishing Conversations”

Anna had been with Mark for six years. In the beginning, he was attentive, thoughtful, and always said the right things. But over time, something shifted. Whenever Anna brought up something that bothered her—like how he’d cancel plans without notice or seem emotionally distant—he’d respond with cold silence.

Days would go by without him acknowledging her feelings. He wouldn't say she was wrong—but he wouldn't say anything at all. She’d begin to wonder: Did I overreact? Maybe I imagined the whole thing.

When she asked directly, “Did I do something wrong?” he’d shrug or say, “I don’t want to talk about this again,” even though they never had. His refusal to engage left her spiraling in self-doubt. She began censoring herself to keep the peace, walking on eggshells to avoid the icy walls he built.

Over time, Anna felt like a shadow of herself—constantly questioning her memory, her needs, and even her sanity.

What Mark was doing wasn’t yelling, name-calling, or even openly cruel. It was silence used as a weapon—designed to control the emotional climate of their relationship without ever appearing abusive.