Arielle North sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the red envelope that had appeared again that morning. Somehow it seemed smaller, quieter, less ominous than before—but still glowing faintly, like a shy firefly.
Her chest was still warm from yesterday. From the kiss. From the magic. From… him.
And the more she thought about it, the more that familiar panic rose in her stomach. Not the usual “bad luck is about to destroy me” panic, but something stranger. Something worse.
She was afraid.
Afraid of… good things.
It sounded ridiculous when she said it out loud. She muttered, “I’m literally afraid of… happiness. What kind of cursed human does that make me?”
Her cat, Muffin, gave her the stink-eye. “Probably a very relatable one,” Arielle imagined him saying.
The envelope shimmered a
