✰✰✰.5 — so close to being great.

Full honesty: I only read this so I could watch the movie guilt-free. I was raised on the sacred rule of read the book first, and unfortunately for me, that moral code followed me into adulthood.

I really wanted this to grab me by the throat, but it never quite did. I wasn’t obsessed. I wasn’t feral. I was… aware of how many pages I had left, which is never a great sign. That said—somehow—I still had a smile on my face the entire time. Because listen. One bed trope. I’m only human.

It took way too long to finally tell us what actually happened between them and why their friendship imploded. By the time it was revealed, I was like, “Oh. That’s it?” The emotional payoff didn’t fully land because the buildup dragged just a bit too much.

But also—God, they’re idiots. Absolute fools. You’re in love. Everyone knows it. The reader knows it. The walls know it. Please just figure it out.

And the mountain scene?? If that’s not in the movie, I will be filing a formal complaint with the universe.

Not my favourite, but still charming, still soft, still cozy. Cute idiots, yearning, travel vibes, and enough chemistry to keep me going—even if I wasn’t sprinting through the pages.

‘Strong’ by One Direction came on while I was reading this and honestly? That feels spiritually correct. Like the universe said, “Here, have a soundtrack for your emotional damage.”

This book has everything: a murder mystery, a ridiculously cute romance, perfectly timed humor, and an energy that feels like it was tailored specifically for my brain chemistry. I swear it’s like Autumn Woods studied my tastes and wrote accordingly. Even the miscommunication — which normally makes me want to set things on fire — didn’t make me rage-quit (too much).

The prologue throws you straight into the suspense with no warning. No easing in. Just vibes and danger.

The representation of depression? So good. Grief? Painfully realistic. And the way both exist separately in Ophelia but tangle together? That’s it. That’s the nuance I’m always begging for.

Ophelia and Alex’s banter had me kicking my feet. They’re so sharp and so soft at the same time. Absolutely adorable.

Vincenzo??? A legend. Hysterical. Dramatic. Caring. I would like twelve thousand more scenes of him immediately.

“Put me out of my goddamn misery, Ophelia.” Because he wants to know if she kissed another man. I need someone to physically restrain me.

“I'll thank you one day when I'm grateful.” I felt that.

Alex absolutely attended the Anthony Bridgerton Academy of Unhinged Yearning. The way this man needs to love her for himself? The longing? The intensity? The borderline obsession? I had to put the book down and pace.

“Can I kiss you? Please?” Oh, I’m deceased. Gone. Buried.

“I’ll love you with the same intensity that you hate me… I’ll sit at the bottom of valleys and stand on the top of mountains with you.” No words. Only suffering.

And the bonus chapter — their first meeting from his POV — was the perfect final gut punch. The good kind. The take-my-breath-away kind.

The cliffhanger? Cruel. Evil. Diabolical. I need the sequel injected directly into my bloodstream immediately.

This honestly felt like it took me years to read — not because it’s bad, but because it’s so densely descriptive that my brain was doing laps trying to keep up. Notebooks should be sold with this book. A glossary. A map. A support group. Something. It genuinely felt like I was aging alongside Fitz with every chapter.

But my god… it was so good. So rich and emotional and quietly devastating. Hobb writes sadness the way other people write action scenes — effortless, immersive, and absolutely soul-crushing.

The first chapter alone? It’s basically just table-setting and yet somehow still manages to emotionally bludgeon you. It’s like being pushed off a cliff with no warning.

Fitz holds all of the power and none of it at the same time. He’s important, essential, the center of everything… and yet treated like he’s expendable. The contradiction of his existence is heartbreaking.

His bond with the dogs? Precious, pure, and honestly the emotional support I needed to survive all the court politics.

Every time an animal showed up I immediately relaxed because at least they wouldn’t betray him.

“He held it out to me, and I took death upon my open palm.” EXCUSE ME? Robin Hobb really just writes sentences like that and expects us to remain alive.

And then there’s the Fool. I have no idea what to think of him. Is he good? Is he bad? Is he morally sideways in ways we mere mortals cannot comprehend? Every time he appears, I’m like: sir what are you and what do you want from me. But he’s fascinating. Impossible to pin down. Strange in the best, most haunting way.

This book was long, heavy, and so emotionally loaded… and I already know I’m in danger because I want to keep going. Even though I know it’s only going to get worse.

And I’m absolutely not prepared.