Love, Rewritten:(A Girls’ Love Story).

The morning after the journal closed, the house was silent. Not the peaceful kind of silence, but the kind that follows a storm. Stillness that waits for aftershocks.

Elara stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, brushing her hair out of instinct rather than care. Her eyes lingered on her own reflection. There were lines beneath them, memories etched into skin. And her heart was still heavy with the weight of the truth Rowan had uncovered.

She had meant to save them. Instead, she had rewritten pain.

A knock at the door.

Rowan stepped inside, holding the prism pendant between her fingers.

"We need to finish it," she said.

Elara turned. "You mean undo it."

Rowan nodded.

They both knew what it meant: the spell wasn't just dormant. It was still active, buried under layers of memory and choice. And it could fracture again. Could steal from them again.

Unless they destroyed it.

The spell had originated from the Temple of Oris, a place whispered about in old magic circles. Chiara had once mentioned it in passing, assuming it had been lost in time. But Elara had researched more than anyone knew.

The temple still existed in the cliffs outside Delphi, Greece. Built into the rock, hidden from modern maps, protected by layers of illusion.

They booked tickets that afternoon.

No spells.

No glamours.

Just them.

Two women chasing the shadow of their own rewritten love.

The journey was quiet. Tense. But not angry. It was the silence of two people waiting for something final.

As the boat approached the shore near Delphi, the air changed. Heavier. Charged. Even the birds avoided the cliffs.

The climb was steep. Their shoes scraped against rock. Their breaths were short. But when they finally reached the temple's mouth, it was unmistakable.

Carved stone. Vines crawling over columns. And an entrance sealed with glowing runes that pulsed faintly, magic, old, and aware.

Elara stepped forward. The pendant vibrated in Rowan's hand.

"I have to do this alone," Elara said.

Rowan didn't move. "Are you sure?"

"This started with me. Let it end with me."

Their eyes locked. Then Rowan handed her the pendant.

"Come back to me," she said.

"I always will."

Inside, the temple opened into a vast chamber. A shallow pool reflected the ceiling like a mirror. In its center stood a pedestal. And on it.

The source.

A shard of obsidian. This is identical to the one Elara had stored in the attic.

She stepped forward. The pendant lit in her hand.

Visions swirled around her.

Her mother's laughter.

Rowan's first kiss.

The bookstore.

The lavender field.

Memories. Real. Constructed. Merged. Confused.

And then—a voice. Not hers. Not Rowan's.

The spell.

> Are you here to erase?

Elara clenched the pendant.

> Or to forget again?

She raised her chin. "Neither."

She placed the pendant on the pedestal beside the shard.

"I'm here to restore truth. And let love be what it was always meant to be—unwritten, unforced, chosen."

The ground shook.

Light exploded.

And then—

Darkness.

---

When she woke, she was on the floor of the chamber. The shard was gone. The pedestal cracked. And the pendant.

Cold.

Outside, the sun had risen fully over the cliffs. A light breeze brushed her cheeks.

Rowan was waiting at the base of the path.

Their eyes met.

Elara ran.

They collided in a hug that said everything words couldn't.

"It's done," Elara whispered.

Rowan buried her face in her shoulder. "Then let's start from here."

They walked down the mountain hand in hand, the past no longer chasing them.

What they had now wasn't perfect.

But it was real.

And that made all the difference.