told you once, little human,” she murmured. “A dead lover can never break your heart. You did not listen to me then.” And Raihn had broken my heart that night. I couldn’t deny that. “You should have let the flower of your love remain forever frozen as it was,” she said. “So beautiful at its peak. So much less painful.” But there was no such thing as love without fear. Love without vulnerability. Love without risk. “Not as beautiful as one that lives,” I whispered.
