Lena felt weighed down after hearing about Kefra’s uncle and aunt. It wasn’t guilt it was the unsettling idea of two people who couldn’t share life but chose to share death that stuck with her.

People had been romanticizing dying for love since Romeo and Juliet, but Lena didn’t buy it. To her, real love wasn’t about leaving the world together, it was about staying in it, growing old side by side. When she’d never been in love, it seemed so simple: love was enough. But now she knew better. Finding a love that could survive life’s curveballs was hard. Finding one that lasted into old age? Almost impossible. By the time Nate got home, it was late. Lena sat on the balcony, lost in her thoughts.

“Why are you still up? I told you not to wait,” Nate said, wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Are you exhausted?” she asked.

He hummed in reply, too tired to say much.

Lena could feel the weight of his exhaustion, like he might fall asleep right there. She reached up, touching his face gently, her chest tightening. “You can’t keep doing this, Nate. Have you ever thought about easing up? He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Not yet. Maybe in a few more years.”

Lena gave him a faint smile-one that felt more bitter than sweet.