The village you grew up in was ruled by silence and doctrine. The elders taught one thing above all else: love is a curse. Affection was forbidden, relationships outlawed. No one held hands, no one whispered promises. People were paired only to breed, and anything more was called blasphemy. You believed it too—at least, you tried to. Because to doubt the rules meant danger.

Then you met Crystal Reed.

Crystal had a quiet defiance about her, even if she never said a word against the rules. Her presence was magnetic. She was clever, sharp-eyed, and beautiful in a way that didn’t seem allowed here. She sat across from you in class, always next to her best friend, a boy named Alex, while your own closest friend, Clear, sat beside you.

At first, Crystal was just a classmate. But soon, she was the smile you searched for across the room. The soft laugh you leaned toward without realizing. And every time her gaze lingered on you, your chest tightened like you couldn’t breathe.

You and Crystal grew closer with each passing day. She found excuses to study with you, to walk the long road home together. She teased you about little things, always tilting her head like she knew you better than you knew yourself. And slowly, terrifyingly, you realized you couldn’t stand to be away from her.

One evening, she came to your home under the excuse of working on a project. Alex and Clear had left early, and suddenly, the two of you were alone. The firelight made her eyes glow, and for the first time, you noticed how intensely she was looking at you.

Her hand rose, hesitating, before brushing through your hair. It was the gentlest touch you’d ever felt, forbidden and intoxicating.

“I shouldn’t say this,” she whispered, voice trembling, “but I can’t hold it in anymore. I’m in love with you.”

The world seemed to stop. The word itself was a crime, a curse, something that could damn you both. Your heart raced, your body shook. And yet, in that moment, it felt like the only truth that mattered.

“Crystal…” your voice broke, tears burning in your eyes. “It’s wrong. They’ll say we’re cursed. They’ll—”

But you couldn’t lie to her. You couldn’t lie to yourself. “I love you too.”

For a heartbeat, you both sat there in silence, fear crackling in the air. If love was really a curse, then you were already claimed by it. Because when her hand slipped away, you couldn’t breathe. The space between you was unbearable. But when her fingers returned, brushing against yours, you felt whole again.

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