Walking through Chelsea toward the High Line, Henry Strauss suddenly connects Bea’s recent search for a thesis topic to Addie LaRue. He recognizes Addie as the same seven-freckled woman appearing across different artworks Bea has been tracking.

Henry stops in the middle of a crosswalk and tells Addie the truth: it was Addie in those images. Addie confirms it, explaining that she remembers the day an artist sketched her on a beach, but she never saw the finished piece, and she did not know about the other artwork.

As they climb to the High Line, Addie clarifies the boundaries of her curse. Addie cannot hold a pen to write, cannot tell her story, cannot use a weapon, and cannot make anyone remember her, but she can still slip into art because art carries ideas rather than direct memory.

Henry asks about photographs and film, and Addie admits those do not work for her, briefly revealing the pain of that limitation. She recovers with defiant joy, insisting that there is something wonderful about being an idea.

When wind whips along the elevated path, Addie leans into it instead of retreating. Watching Addie in that moment, Henry understands what artists must have seen in her, and despite being physically steady, Henry feels himself falling for her.