“Then help me,” she begged.
“Over the last four years, I’ve helped you kill at least five people. That has to mean something. Leave this man alone. Get a tub of ice cream or some chocolate, rent some sappy romance, and feel sad for yourself. Cupid’s a cruel god, and that’s why I serve a different winged spirit. Let the pain come, and then, let it go; you’ll be happier, he’ll be happier, we’ll all be happier, if you do.”
“I need him,” she said.
“No. You. Don’t. You think you do, but you don’t. Let him go,” I said.
Tale Told 