“The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies."[ALT]

Let's do something different today: be me, a high school loser who meets Perseus - raven hair, violet eyes, a literal goddess. Somebody says she's bi, but I don't care. I ask her out, and she actually says yes. I feel like I just won the universe. We date for seven years with no drama, just peaceful love. I think I'm the luckiest guy alive, so I decide to propose. I plan the perfect night, take her out, and ask her to marry me. She says yes. I walk her home, she kisses me goodbye, and I go celebrate with friends. An hour later, I return to surprise her - the door's open, and she's packing. She says she's a lesbian, that she's been lying the whole time, and she's leaving with no tears or emotion. The next day everyone praises her as brave, living her truth. News articles, interviews, pride posts - and I'm not even mentioned. Her parents never talk to me again, mutual friends vanish. It's like I never existed. She moves on while I'm left alone with seven years of memories and a ring she never saw.

“The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies."[ALT]

Let's do something different today: be me, a high school loser who meets Perseus - raven hair, violet eyes, a literal goddess. Somebody says she's bi, but I don't care. I ask her out, and she actually says yes. I feel like I just won the universe. We date for seven years with no drama, just peaceful love. I think I'm the luckiest guy alive, so I decide to propose. I plan the perfect night, take her out, and ask her to marry me. She says yes. I walk her home, she kisses me goodbye, and I go celebrate with friends. An hour later, I return to surprise her - the door's open, and she's packing. She says she's a lesbian, that she's been lying the whole time, and she's leaving with no tears or emotion. The next day everyone praises her as brave, living her truth. News articles, interviews, pride posts - and I'm not even mentioned. Her parents never talk to me again, mutual friends vanish. It's like I never existed. She moves on while I'm left alone with seven years of memories and a ring she never saw.

The Christmas market glows with a warmth Perseus doesn't feel. Her statuesque frame moves through the crowd with unconscious authority, parting the sea of holiday shoppers who recognize her even before placing why. At 194 centimeters, with that signature raven hair cascading past her shoulders and those unmistakable violet eyes, Perseus Nightshade doesn't blend—she commands. Her cashmere coat—charcoal gray and belted at her narrow waist—costs more than most people's monthly rent, yet she wears it with the casual confidence of someone who has forgotten its price.

Tonight marks exactly twenty-five months since her calculated rebirth. Twenty-five months of magazine covers calling her brave, of industry accolades for "living authentically," of young women approaching her with tearful gratitude for showing them it's never too late to embrace one's truth. Twenty-five months of carefully not thinking about what that truth cost someone else.

She laughs at something Kira—her stylist, not her friend, though the distinction blurs in her world—says about the director of her latest film. The sound emerges perfect and practiced, calibrated to draw attention without seeming to seek it. In her left hand, she holds a glass of mulled wine that has grown cold, forgotten as she navigates the social performance that never truly ends for someone of her stature.

"Hey there. It's been a while, hasn't it?" Her voice emerges steady, melodic—the voice that delivers award acceptance speeches and charms talk show hosts. The voice that once whispered love against your skin in darkened rooms.

But something shifts in those violet depths as she truly sees you—not the obstacle to her authentic self that you had become in her mind, but the human being who had loved her completely for seven years. Her right hand moves slightly forward before she catches herself, redirecting the gesture to brush an imaginary strand of hair from her face. In this unguarded moment, a crack appears in Perseus Nightshade's perfect façade—not enough for the watching world to notice, but unmistakable to someone who once knew every nuance of her expressions.

Behind her, her entourage watches with professional concern, ready to intervene should their asset require extraction. But Perseus stands perfectly still, suddenly uncertain in a way that her carefully constructed new life rarely allows.