From Apollo’s Betrayed Bride to Hades’ Queen

With no tears left to cry, I went back to our shared bedroom.

Five days left.

I started systematically erasing every trace of myself from his space.

My teacups, the laurel flowers I grew by hand, the stacks of poetry I wrote declaring my love for him—I smashed them to pieces or threw them straight into the fireplace.

As the flames devoured the paper, whatever love I had left for him turned to ash, too.

The next morning, a temple servant delivered the "new dress" Apollo had picked out.

I opened the box and looked at the plain, poorly stitched white gown. The sizing wasn't even right. I let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh.

It was lightyears away from the gorgeous gown I had designed. It looked like a basic servant's shift. The gold threading at the hem was even unraveling.

This was his "better dress."

Without a word, I picked it up by the shoulders, walked over to the brazier, and dropped it straight into the roaring fire.

The flames swallowed the fabric in seconds.

The servant blinked in shock but didn't dare say a word.

A little while later, Apollo walked in. He totally missed the charred remains of the dress in the fire. Wrapping his arms around me from behind, he kissed my hair. "Lyra, did you see the dress? Do you like it?"

"I saw it. I love it," I said, my voice entirely flat.

Apollo exhaled in relief, spinning me around to hold my hands. He looked at me with those earnest, golden eyes. "About yesterday... don't hold it against her. Cassie is young and naive. I already scolded her. You're not mad, right?"

"I don't mind," I replied smoothly.

Seeing how calm I was, a flicker of guilt actually crossed his face. He stroked my hair, murmuring, "You're so understanding, Lyra. Listen, I have some urgent godly duties to attend to for the next few days, so I won't be around much. But after the ceremony, I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll take you anywhere you want to go, okay?"

Urgent duties?

I knew damn well his "duties" involved sneaking into Cassandra’s bed, plotting how to strip my powers on our wedding day.

But I kept my mask on. "Okay. Go do what you need to do."

After he left, I took a trip to my mortal home.

It was the house I grew up in for twenty years. Yet my bedroom was smaller than Cassandra’s closet. It was damp, dark, and in the winters, I’d shiver myself to sleep.

My parents had always turned a blind eye.

I walked into that tiny room and started clearing it out. Old clothes, cheap toys they’d bought out of obligation—I packed it all in trash bags.

By the time I finished, the only thing left on the desk was a thick journal. It documented years of my desperate longing for their love, and the crushing heartbreak of being constantly cast aside.

I left it right in the middle of the desk. My parting gift.

As I hauled the bags out to the courtyard to throw them away, my mother walked out.

I didn't smile or greet her like I normally would. I just brushed past her.

Seeing the bags, she didn't offer a shred of motherly concern. Instead, her face twisted in disgust. "Lyra, what is wrong with you? Don't think just because you're marrying a god you can throw your weight around in this house! And don't even think about bullying Cassandra once you're his consort! She's our real daughter, you're just a charity case. Learn some gratitude!"

"Besides, with your personality, Lord Apollo is going to get sick of you eventually. If you ask me, you should just step aside and let Cassandra marry him!"

Hearing that, the last puzzle piece clicked into place.

She and my father already knew about Cassandra's plan. They were helping her keep me in the dark.

Gratitude? For what? Stealing my identity, or using me as a stepping stone for their golden child?

I took one last look at this bitter woman who had never shown me an ounce of warmth.

I didn't argue. I just said, "Goodbye."