I wished for her,” he says.

I keep waiting for things to get back down to whelming, but they stay at overwhelming.

Celia laughs and a curl of her hair falls across her cheek. Marco tentatively moves to brush it off her face, but before his fingers reach her, she pushes herself off the ledge, her silver gown a billowing cloud as she falls onto the pile of jewel-toned cushions.

Is magic not enough to live for?

"I am already married," she remarks to the empty air, twisting the ring on her right hand that covers an sold, distinctive scar.

But you built me dreams instead.

You believe you could not live with the pain. Such pain is not lived with. It is only endured. I am sorry.