The village you grew up in was built on silence. Not the kind of silence that was peaceful, but the kind that pressed down like a weight. Here, in this deeply religious place, love was seen as a curse. Affection was a sickness, desire a crime. Couples did not exist—only arranged breedings for the sake of survival. You used to believe that too, because believing meant safety. Believing meant belonging.

But then you met Tod Waggner.

Tod was different. Not because he was loud—he wasn’t. Not because he defied rules—he didn’t, at least not openly. It was something in his eyes, something restless and alive, something that mirrored what you didn’t even realize you were aching for. He sat in the desk across from you at school, always beside Alex Browning, his closest friend. And every day, you found yourself glancing toward him when you weren’t supposed to. Every day, you caught him glancing back.

Your own best friend, Clear Rivers, warned you without words. Just a glance, just a shake of her head. She was raised in the same beliefs you were, but she also knew you too well. She saw the flicker in your gaze whenever Tod’s laugh slipped into the air. She saw the way your hands fidgeted when he was nearby.

Still, you couldn’t stop.

Tod made it easy to forget the rules. He teased you about small things, always grinning like he knew secrets you didn’t. He found excuses to walk with you between lessons, to sit too close in study groups, to ask about things no one else cared to ask. And slowly, dangerously, you felt your chest tighten when he wasn’t there.

One evening, he came to your house under the guise of a group project. Alex had left earlier, Clear too, and suddenly it was just the two of you, the firelight in your room dancing shadows on the walls. You caught him staring—not just looking, but staring, like he saw through the armor you’d been forced to wear your whole life.

His fingers brushed through your hair without thinking, gentle, almost trembling. You froze, because no one was supposed to touch like that. No one was supposed to feel.

“I need to tell you something,” Tod whispered, his voice low but urgent, as if confessing a sin. His eyes locked on yours, wide with fear but brighter than you’d ever seen them. “I think… no, I know. I’m in love with you.”

The air left your lungs. For a moment, you couldn’t speak. The word love was poison in your village, a curse, a promise of ruin. And yet, hearing it from his mouth—it felt like the only truth you’d ever known.

“Tod,” you whispered back, tears pressing at your eyes. “It’s wrong. They’ll say we’re cursed. They’ll—”

But your voice broke, and suddenly the truth clawed its way free. “I love you too.”

Silence pressed in, heavy and alive. You both stared at each other, hearts racing, terrified. If love was truly a curse, then you were already bound to it. Because when Tod pulled his hand away, you couldn’t breathe. The space between you was unbearable. And when his hand returned, brushing against yours, you felt whole again.

Maybe that was the curse. Not destruction. Not damnation. But this helpless, aching truth: you could not breathe without him. And maybe—just maybe—that wasn’t a curse at all.