Chap­ter XII paints a vivid scene of a chilly New York evening on March 10, 2014, where Addie LaRue, filled with a sense of qui­et deter­mi­na­tion, opts for an ardu­ous walk across Man­hat­tan instead of tak­ing the sub­way. The wind stings her skin, and the win­ter chill is sharp in the air, but Addie finds com­fort in the long, soli­tary walk. She dis­likes the suf­fo­cat­ing feel­ing of being trapped in the under­ground tun­nels, and thus choos­es the free­dom of walk­ing, even if it means endur­ing the ele­ments. Her jour­ney cul­mi­nates at the Bax­ter on Fifty-sixth, a tall build­ing that hous­es James St. Clair’s apart­ment, a space that has become a com­fort­ing refuge for Addie in the time since their ini­tial meet­ing. She bypass­es the front desk attendant’s casu­al ques­tion­ing, know­ing well that the city’s bustling anonymi­ty often works in her favor.

James, with his affa­ble nature and warmth, had drawn Addie in when they first met at a down­town cof­fee shop, a meet­ing that began with casu­al con­ver­sa­tion but quick­ly blos­somed into some­thing more mean­ing­ful. He wasn’t just a fleet­ing acquain­tance, but some­one who had shown an unex­pect­ed kind­ness and curios­i­ty, unlike many oth­ers in Addie’s life. Their con­nec­tion grew through shared late-night cof­fees, impromp­tu ice cream breaks in the dead of win­ter, and qui­et evenings spent talk­ing for hours. Addie cher­ished these moments, feel­ing a rare sense of being seen and understood—something she had learned not to expect. James had quick­ly become some­one who offered her a sem­blance of nor­mal­cy, a place to land where she wasn’t just an invis­i­ble fig­ure in the crowd. Their con­nec­tion seemed to offer a fleet­ing sense of home, an illu­sion of sta­bil­i­ty in a world that con­tin­u­ous­ly left her adrift.

Once inside James’s apart­ment, Addie allows her­self a moment to take in the small lux­u­ries of his life, lux­u­ries she could nev­er tru­ly keep for her­self due to her curse. Her inabil­i­ty to hold onto pos­ses­sions or leave any last­ing trace of her­self is both a bless­ing and a curse, leav­ing her for­ev­er unteth­ered. Despite the warm envi­ron­ment of James’s apart­ment, a small, unwant­ed ring that lies on his cof­fee table serves as a sub­tle reminder of her inabil­i­ty to tru­ly claim own­er­ship of any part of her exis­tence. The ring sym­bol­izes the loss and emo­tion­al bag­gage she car­ries, remind­ing her of the his­to­ry that con­tin­ues to haunt her. Yet, even amidst these con­stant reminders of imper­ma­nence, Addie finds com­fort in the space. As she set­tles in, her thoughts turn back to their grow­ing con­nec­tion, and she reflects on the con­ver­sa­tion they had about their per­son­al lives and the secrets they had shared. James’s vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty in reveal­ing his strug­gles with iden­ti­ty and the pres­sures of his career allowed Addie to see him in a new light. She under­stands the weight of his fear of being judged and how it aligns with her own bur­dens of con­ceal­ment and silence.

Their time togeth­er, how­ev­er brief, offers a moment of clar­i­ty for both of them. Their shared con­fes­sions, vul­ner­a­bil­i­ties, and accep­tance of one anoth­er mark a rare instance where they both feel under­stood. Addie rec­og­nizes the beau­ty in their con­nec­tion, not for what it could become, but for what it offers in the moment: a space to breathe, to share, and to be seen as they tru­ly are. Despite the knowl­edge that their time togeth­er is finite, they both find solace in the sim­plic­i­ty of their shared expe­ri­ences. Addie’s vis­it isn’t about rekin­dling any­thing from the past or forc­ing a deep­er relationship—it is sim­ply about find­ing warmth in anoth­er per­son and a brief escape from the soli­tude that typ­i­cal­ly defines her life. The apart­ment, though tem­po­rary, serves as a sanc­tu­ary of under­stand­ing, where Addie can let her guard down and exist in a space that feels, for a moment, like home. Her time spent there rein­forces the impor­tance of con­nec­tions, even fleet­ing ones, in a world where per­ma­nence feels like an impos­si­ble dream.