What if love wasn’t real—just a story we told ourselves to make the loneliness softer? Imagine every “I love you” as a clever survival instinct, a chemical illusion dressed up as destiny. We’d still reach for each other in the dark, but for warmth, not wonder. Weddings would be contracts, not promises. Heartbreak would be withdrawal, not tragedy. And yet, even if love were only a myth, it would be the most beautiful one we ever invented—because somehow, believing in it makes us kinder, braver, and willing to stay....