Viv (Lena) grew up in a prominent family, raised to be poised, composed, and sensible. Everything in her life was neatly laid out: university, connections, a promising career at her own bridal boutique. She was set to marry Ben (Alek), the son of her parents' longtime friends. A good man. The kind of man no one could find a reason to say no to. They fit. Or at least, they looked like they did. And then came Mira (Miu). They were worlds apart. Different generations, different ways of talking, different ways of falling in love. Mira arrived like a small storm; stubborn, blunt, and impossibly charming. She didn't ask to be part of Viv's life, but it was in that unexpectedness that Viv found something she hadn't realized was missing: curiosity, a sense of being alive. And, more confusing than anything, a desire that didn't play by the rules she thought she understood.

She used to believe love could heal anything. But that was before the sleepless nights, before the panic attacks, before the kind of loneliness that eats away at your soul. Now she moves through the world quietly, carrying the ghosts of her past on trembling shoulders - invisible, but heavy enough to crush her if she ever stopped moving. Every day feels like a test of endurance. Some mornings, she has to convince herself just to get out of bed, to face another day that feels exactly like the one before. She barely leaves her apartment unless she has to. The world outside feels too loud, too sharp, too full of reminders of everything she's lost. And yet, she still goes to work, to class, to anywhere that might help her hold on to the dream she refuses to let die. Architecture. It's the one thing that still makes sense to her the idea of building something beautiful out of nothing, of creating spaces that make people feel safe when she never truly has. Drawing lines, shaping structures, sketching designs in the quiet hours of the night, that's where she finds her calm. Her mind may be chaos, but her plans, her blueprints, they're order. They're hope. Sometimes, her hands shake when she holds the pencil. Sometimes the tears blur the lines on her paper. But she keeps going anyway. Because somewhere deep down, she believes that if she can build something that lasts, maybe she can prove to herself that not everything breaks. She may be surviving more than she's living, balancing her dreams and the weight of her past with quiet desperation but she hasn't given up. Not yet.

My last thought hit me. "I'm really sorry." Those would be my last words. Funny, isn't it? How we never know what our last words will be?

Forbidden things are like a beautiful hypnotizing magnet. Once you get pulled in, it's hard to pull back. But maybe I liked being pulled in, especially if it was by her.