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“We stayed because we were terrified of being alone.” Her voice carried across the quiet parking lot. “We don't love each other anymore. We haven't for years. We're just cowards.” She turned and walked away, never looking back.

The man stood alone, staring down at the ring on the sidewalk, his face completely blank with shock.

Tristan groaned, pressing a hand against his ribs. “That one was cold. A clean break, but not for him.”

“You didn't make them settle for each other.” I put the car into gear. “And you didn't make her take off that ring. You were just the light shining on their darkness.”

“I am the darkness, Destiny,” he whispered.

We moved from U Street to Capitol Hill, then down to an apartment complex near the Navy Yard. Each stop was an emotional autopsy. At every location, decades of buried resentment, concealed infidelity, unspoken devotion, or quiet despair rose to the surface and demanded resolution.

It was utterly exhausting to watch, but for Tristan, it was bitter relief. With every stop, a little of the Pull lessened, but his guilt increased. He couldn't do what his usually did—fight the Pull, dampen the Curse, or flee. He carried an impossible sense of personal accountability for strangers whose choices had been made long before he entered their orbit.

By three in the afternoon, the sky had turned a dismal gray. We were idling near the overlook at Meridian Hill Park when the Pull changed. It didn't simply tug; it detonated.

Tristan let out a strangled cry and threw his door open, stumbling out of the car onto the sidewalk. He fell to his knees on the dead grass near a stone retaining wall, his hands clawing at his chest where the golden Sigil was hidden beneath his clothes.

“Tristan!” I killed the engine and ran to him, dropping to the dirt beside him.

“It's too much,” he gasped, his teeth chattering violently as if he were freezing, while his skin radiated feverish heat. “I can't endure it. Hit me!” He clutched at my hands. “Get a rock and knock me unconscious.”

“Let me help you.”

“No! It's too much for you. Knock me out!”

His eyes were losing focus, the vibrant blue drowning in an oily, golden sheen that seemed to bleed from his pupils. His fingers were stiffening into claws. The air around him began to drop in temperature, the faint scent of dead roses billowing outward in waves. I didn't want to hurt him. What if I killed him or didn't hit him in the right place? I didn't know how to safely knock a man out. I wasn't even sure I could. Things didn't work in real life like they did in movies. You can't just smack someone on the head and expect them to go down.

“I got you.”

“Destiny, no.” But he was too weak to fight me.

I slid my hand inside his unbuttoned collar, pressing my palm directly over the burning mark of the Sigil on his chest, and dropped my mental defenses. Instantly, my throat constricted and my head fell back. The pain was so great I couldn't even scream.

It felt like drinking lightning. A wave of sharp, metallic sorrow rushed into my veins—the ache of a thousand goodbyes, the bitter sting of betrayal, the crushing weight of loneliness. Even as I processed it, it renewed. It felt endless. But I didn't pull away. I didn't raise my shields. Instead, I grabbed his shoulder to brace myself and breathed in, deliberately siphoning the excess pressure. In desperation, I took it deeper, pulled it into the steady, stubborn anchor of my own mortal heart. Into my love.

And a miracle happened.

Love eased Heartbreak. It stuttered and sighed, while Tristan and I let out ragged breaths. Through the bond Heartbreak had formed, my love called to Tristan's, and I felt a shimmering brightness move back and forth between us. I opened my eyes and watched the golden sheen in his receding, leaving only clear aquamarine.

Tristan collapsed forward, his forehead coming to rest heavily against my shoulder. The terrible, vibrating tension in the air snapped, dissolving into the quiet rustle of the wind, and the scent of dead roses gave way to autumn leaves.

Thoughts whirled within my mind. The Pull was gone. The artificial storm had passed. Love did conquer all. I suddenly knew why the Severing existed. Not just to lessen the load, but to tame the wild nature of a Curse. And the Curse longed for the gentling. It had drawn Tristan to me not because it wanted to split itself, but because it longed for relief as much as Tristan.

Reach for what has no substance, balance what has no weight, and love what cannot be loved. I had just done all three.

We stayed there embracing for several minutes, my arms wrapped tightly around Tristan's back while he trembled against me, his breathing gradually returning to normal. With a deep breath, he lifted his head and met my gaze. Laying his hand on his sigil, he whispered, “It felt different. It was more than calming. It was—“

“Us. Our love broke the Curse.”

He chuckled, but it was faint. “This isn't a fairy tale. The Curse is still here.”

“I know, I just liked the sound of it.” I grinned. “But you know what I mean. Our love changed Heartbreak in that moment. And I think Heartbreak liked it.”

Tristan rose unsteadily, and I hurried up to help him to the car. When I opened the door, he fell into the passenger seat. I rushed to my seat. Once my door was shut, I took his hand.

“I don't know what happened,” he said before I could speak. “I don't think it changed exactly, but it retracted its claws.”

“Tristan, I think Heartbreak wants the Severing. I think love makes it happy. The Pull only hurts because heartbreak hurts, and the Curse is made of heartbreak. The only way to release it from constant pain is to love it.”