I was mid-spoon stack, the tower swaying, when the knock came.
Sharp. Hollow. Final.
My heart lurched. I blinked at the door like it might vanish if I didn’t move.
Delivery, I told myself. Something stupid I forgot I ordered. Maybe the body scrub I added to my cart last night while trying not to think about Hades. Or socks.
Please let it be socks.
Even this late.
I set the bowl down with a clink and padded to the door, pulling it open without thinking.
And just like that—the floor dropped out from under me.
She stood there like a curse I hadn’t meant to summon.
I didn't recognize her. And yet, I knew exactly who she was.
Every inch of her was designed to destabilize: vibrant red hair spilling down her back like wildfire, a black designer dress hugging her curves like armor, heels too sharp to be practical. She looked like danger wrapped in elegance. The opposite of the chaos Hades brought into a room—but no less lethal.
My hand tightened on the doorknob.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, voice clipped, already bracing for impact.
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. It wasn’t even a smile—just the shape of one, stretched tight over something venomous. “We need to talk.”
“I don't know you,” I shot back.
The faux-smile slipped. What replaced it? Something colder. Sharper. The kind of look that made you bleed before you even realized you were cut.
“It’s about him.”
My stomach dropped. I didn’t want to flinch, but I did. Just a fraction. Just enough for her to see it.
I crossed my arms, tugging the hem of my oversized t-shirt lower, as if it could act like armor. “I don't care."
She tilted her head—slow, calculating. The kind of movement that made you feel like prey. “You’re in way over your head, Seph.”
My name on her lips made me want to punch something. Or cry. I wasn’t sure which. “I’m not asking for your opinion,” I said, heat creeping up my spine. “You don’t get to come here and pretend you… what? Care?”
“Really?” she said, stepping just inside the doorway like it was hers. Like she had the right. “Then maybe you should stop acting like a naïve little placeholder and listen.”
Her words sliced deep—not because they were true, but because some small, terrified part of me feared they might be.
But I didn’t back down.
Not this time.
I hesitated.
Just for a second. Long enough to think maybe I could shut the door and pretend none of this was real.
But that second was all she needed.
She stepped inside like she owned the place—like she belonged here, and I was just some girl who’d accidentally wandered into the wrong story. Like she knew this place.
And it bothered me more than I would ever say.
