It all happened so quickly after that.

I saw him on the path that wound around the gazebo at the very same moment he spotted me. His hair fell into his eyes as he raised his hand in greeting.

I smiled, and then the strangest look came over his face.

A second later, his hand dropped, and he fell to the ground.

For a moment I stood where I was. I couldn’t understand what was happening, and at the same time, I must have already known. That’s why I froze. I didn’t want to leave the moment where he was still with me to go to the next, where nothing made sense. But it did only last a moment, and then I was running. There was no thinking about it, my body just went to him.

He was gone before I could get there.

My memory is hazy after that. I know I called for help. Then I tried to bring him back. I don’t remember how I tried, what I did exactly, but I know I tried. And I’m certain none of the spells I cast fell in the realm of white magic. I would have torn a hole in the fabric of the universe to bring him back.

Someone told me afterward that the paramedics found me unconscious when they arrived on the scene. My head resting on Adam’s chest.

The doctor said he’d had a congenital heart defect. A widow-maker. It had always been there. We just hadn’t known.

I closed my eyes against the memories. I could feel the emotion building, swelling, crushing me from the inside.

No, I wasn’t going to do this again. Feel any of it again. Those first few days, weeks, after Adam died nearly killed me. I couldn’t survive that again.

Suddenly a strange noise pierced through my thoughts. It sounded like a crack.

I looked up. A long fissure lay snaked across the plaster of my ceiling.

No. No way. I hadn’t felt anything.

I put the picture of Adam back in the box, facedown, then piled the other photos on top of it. I roughly fixed the lid back on and then jumped off the bed to shove it back underneath.

This was a problem. I knew it was a problem. I had to be more careful. I needed to keep myself in tighter check until my magic faded.

I climbed back into bed and pulled the quilt over the top of me.

I had to tell my aunts about this. Given everything going on, now was not the time for me to be losing control of my magic. But I also knew what telling them would mean. Nora would use it as proof she was right about everything. But I had just slipped. I knew looking at the photo was a bad idea. It wouldn’t happen again.

Besides, the problem would solve itself in time. I just needed to get through it. I clicked off the light.

I tried to get some rest. I really did. But instead of sleep, I spent most of the night staring at the crack in my ceiling, trying not to think about fireflies and stars.