The Cost of Love

I started writing this track searching for something specific: a soft synth tone that wasn’t bright or synthetic like 90s synths, but gentle, human, and bittersweet. The guiding mood became “you’re sad, but you’re safe” — sadness embraced rather than resisted.

As I wrote and listened, memories of Pumpkin came flooding back. A cat I loved deeply. The kind of companion who just knew when you needed them close.

When I saw the final artwork — a girl holding her cat in warm afternoon light, crying softly — it hit me all at once. That image captured exactly what this song is about: the horrible, beautiful weight of loving something so much that losing it breaks you.

This isn’t about heartbreak. It’s about what remains after. The quiet ache that says, I cared deeply, and I lost something because of it. The cost of love is that it always leaves a mark. But even pain can feel warm when it once came from something real.

Tender, not tragic. An intimate reflection on how love and loss are inseparable — and how the ache itself is proof of connection.