A long time ago, during my London days, I was in a relationship with a man I believed was my soulmate. One night, deep into a bottle of red, we talked about love. He said something I never expected a romantic like him to say, he told me: "No matter how in love people are, one day, love dies. It always dies." 

I wanted him to be wrong, but he wasn't. One day my love for him died. Yet there is a part of me who believes there are a lucky few who still go the whole way, who remain in love from beginning to end. I like to write about this possibility in my novels, about love's ignition, its journey, and at times, its death. But through it all, I still believe true love never dies.

You just have to find it.