Chapter 33 - Ophelia
Ophelia
The flower shop smells like death.
Not the romantic, poetic kind. Just the regular kind: rotting stems, stagnant water, the sweet-sick scent of vegetation breaking down.
I stand in the doorway, staring at the wilted arrangements scattered across the counter, and feel something crack in my chest.
This was my life. My whole life, for so many years.
This small shop with its cracked tile floor and temperamental air conditioning. The ancient cash register that jammed every third transaction. Its leaky faucet, and the weird smell that sometimes came. These are the things that I oddly missed when I was in Hades's world.
My shoulders slump slightly as I take in the space.
I chose to come back to it, and I'm not one hundred percent sure why. This was the dream of a girl who I no longer am, and now, as much as I love this place, I'm not really sure what the hell I'm supposed to do with it.
"Great," I mutter, moving to the counter where a stack of envelopes sits. "A goddess with mortal problems."
I snicker as I flip through bills. Rent notices. Utility bills. Wholesaler notices. All very mundane, non-glamorous things.
With Hades, I realize I lost track of time, and as I glance at the calendar and compare the dates to my bills, I pause, counting.
Twelve weeks. It's been twelve weeks since the attack at my shop. Since Hades took me to his penthouse and changed my whole world.
I snort as I look at the bills. They aren't actually that bad considering I'd been six months behind on rent and barely hanging on to this place.
I suspect Hades is the reason I'm mostly squared up.
Or rather some accountant somewhere quietly handling my mortal obligations.
I laugh, and it sounds slightly unhinged even to my own ears.
I have divine power. I can grow roses from sand and drain the life from a goddess with my bare hands. I'm the Queen of the Underworld, the embodiment of the cycle of life and death, and I can't pay my fucking bills.
The absurdity of it hits me all at once, and I sink onto the stool behind the counter, pressing my hands against my face.
What am I doing here? Why did I choose to come back?
I was miserable here and happy with Hades.
And yet, as I look around the mess, I feel a sense of self starting to reform. I came here to take a breath, so what better way to do that than clean up my fucking mess?
The week passes in a blur of mundane tasks.
I clean the shop. Throw away the dead flowers. Order new stock. Open for business even though barely anyone comes in. The few customers I get are the usual strip dwellers looking for bouquets for their shotgun weddings.
It used to bother me, but I'm actually okay with it. I grow lovely flowers using my powers, and I see the smiles on brides' faces as I make their dreams of affordable bouquets come true.
Weirdly enough, it feels good. I like it.
My time at the shop revitalizes something inside of me, and I realize that this is still my dream. It's just evolved.
Work is good.
It's when I get home that I feel the weight of Hades's absence.
Each night, I cook simple meals: pasta, salads, nothing fancy. Sleep in my own bed and wake up to silence.
Hades has kept his word. The shadows in my room are just standard issue, and he hasn't reached out once.
And it doesn't take long for me to realize how lonely I am without him.
Not the kind of lonely I was before Hades. That was different: a vague ache, a sense of something missing that I couldn't name.
This is specific. Sharp. I know exactly what's missing. Him.
My mortal life is boring, which is fine. I like boring. I like routine. No matter who I am, some things won't change.
But after a few days, I realize that the ache for Hades is stronger than anything.
Yes, I want to continue working at my shop. Maybe even expand now that I've got these amazing gifts.
But that doesn't mean I want to be alone.
I dream of having a mortal life with my god. I want to cook dinner while he works late at Erebus. I want to argue about whose turn it is to do dishes. I want lazy Sunday mornings and Netflix binges and all the mundane, domestic things I thought I was missing.
Just with him.
The realization sits heavy in my chest as I climb the stairs to my apartment after a busy day.
I'm reaching for my keys when Hecate appears on my doorstep.
"Hecate!" I jump slightly, shocked. "What the hell are you doing here?" My eyes narrow on her. "And how do you even know where I live?"
She snorts. "I'm a goddess, Ophelia, or are you Persephone now?"
I sigh. That's still the question, isn't it. "Ophelia is fine, and I'm tired. I've been working all day, and I'm ready to eat and watch TV."
"Nope." Hecate grabs my arm before I can unlock the door. "You're coming with me."
"Hecate, I'm exhausted—"
"You're moping." She looks me up and down critically. "And you look horrendous. When is the last time you showered?"
"This morning—"
"When's the last time you did something other than work and sleep and feel sorry for yourself?"
I open my mouth to argue, then close it.
"Fine." I sigh, throwing up my hands. "Where are we going?"
"Out." She's already pulling me back down the stairs. "But first, you're changing. I refuse to be seen with you looking like a mortal who's given up on life."
An hour later, I'm in a club on the Strip wearing a dress Hecate brought me. It's a small, petal pink ombre number with thin straps and an insert push-up that makes my breasts look much bigger than they are.
Seeing it, I immediately wonder if Hades would approve.
Not that I voiced that. It would simply add more flame to Hecate's fire.
When we enter the club, I want to go home. Immediately, I'm assaulted by loud music and bright lights. Mortals are shaking their asses to the DJ, completely oblivious that there are currently several goddesses occupying the VIP section.
Aphrodite waves when she sees me, looking impossibly beautiful in something sparkly and revealing. Athena sits beside her, somehow making tactical pants and a leather jacket look elegant.
I feel weirdly shy as they greet me. I remember them, but I don't know them. Not anymore.
"There she is!" Aphrodite pulls me into a hug that smells like her perfume: ylang-ylang and amber. "We were starting to think Hecate kidnapped you and spirited you away."
"I considered it," Hecate says, settling onto the plush couch. "She was becoming pathetic."
"I am not—"
"You were absolutely pathetic," Athena interrupts, pouring me a drink that definitely isn't mortal alcohol. "Hecate filled us in. A week of moping in your flower shop? Really?"
"I am not moping. I'm processing." I frown. "And why are you spying on me? Did Hades send you?"
"Checking in, not spying," Hecate corrects. "And no, your husband has made it clear we are to leave you be."
I take the drink and down half of it in one go, not ready to talk about Hades.
It burns going down, and I welcome it.
"So." Aphrodite leans forward, her expression shifting from playful to serious. "Before we get too intoxicated to have real conversations, I need to apologize."
The words catch me off guard.
"For what?"
"For the temple." Her voice is quiet. "For using my power on you. For—" She swallows hard. "For almost facilitating your rape."
The bluntness of it makes me flinch.
"It wasn't your fault," I say automatically. "Demeter forced you. The blood debt—"
"I know. But it still happened. And I'm sorry." Her eyes are wet. "For what it's worth, I tried to fight it. But in the end, I did what she commanded. And Zeus, he feels terrible too. What almost happened—"
"Funny," I interrupt. "He's never apologized."
Aphrodite snorts. "Of course not. That ass would die if the words 'I'm sorry' came out of his mouth."
I take another drink. "Not that I need him to. I'm not angry at him. He was as much a victim as I was."
"Don't tell him that," Aphrodite says. "His ego couldn't handle being a victim."
Despite everything, I laugh.
"But seriously," Aphrodite continues. "What I did, using my power like that, it's one of the worst things I've ever been forced to do.
And the fact that you broke through it..
." She shakes her head. "That's never happened before.
I've been the goddess of love and lust for millennia, and I've never seen anyone fight through my influence like you did. "
"It was Hades." I stare into my glass. "The bond. The necklace. Remembering what we had—"
"It was love." Aphrodite's voice is firm. "True love. The kind that transcends magic and compulsion. The kind that's real."
I don't know what to say to that.
"I'm not sure I can be what he needs," I finally admit. "Even with my memories, I'm not Persephone."
All three goddesses turn to look at me.
"I'm not Persephone anymore. But I'm not Ophelia either.
I'm this person in between. This new person who has memories of two lives but isn't quite either of them.
" I set my glass down. "Persephone needed Hades's protection.
She was young and naive and surrounded by gods who wanted to use her.
But I don't need that. I can protect myself. "
"Good," Hecate says.
"And Ophelia, the mortal me, used relationships to fill a void. To make herself feel less alone. But I don't want that either. I don't want to use love as a band-aid for loneliness."
"Also good," Athena nods.
"So what do you want?" Aphrodite asks gently.
"I don't know." I press my hands against my face. "I want him. I know that much. But I don't know if he can love whoever I am now. If he wants me or just wants Persephone back."
Aphrodite is quiet for a moment. Then she reaches over and pulls my hands away from my face.
"I've seen a lot of love," she says. "Mortal love. Divine love. Every variation and permutation. And I have never, never, seen anything like what you and Hades have."
"But—"
"He doesn't want Persephone back." Her voice is certain. "He wants you. Whoever you are. Whoever you're becoming. That's what true love is: loving someone through every transformation, every change. Not despite who they are, but because of it."
"How do you know?"
"Because he died for you. And you brought him back from permanent death. Because you broke through my power, something that should be impossible, just by remembering him. Because—" She smiles. "Because I'm the goddess of love. And I know real when I see it."
I want to argue. Want to list all the reasons it's complicated.
But I can't.
Because she's right.
"Maybe," Aphrodite says, standing and pulling me up with her, "you should be telling him this instead of us."
The rest of the night blurs together in the best way.
We dance. We drink, well, I drink; the goddesses mostly just pretend. We watch mortals make fools of themselves and laugh at pick-up lines that are simultaneously terrible and endearing.
A guy tries to buy me a drink. I politely decline. He asks why, and before I can answer, Hecate leans over and says, "Because her husband is the God of Death and he'd turn you to ash for looking at her wrong."
The guy laughs like it's a joke.
We let him think that.
By the time Hecate portals me back to my apartment, I'm pleasantly drunk and emotionally exhausted.
"Thank you," I tell her as she helps me to my door.
"For what?"
"For not letting me wallow."
She smiles: a rare, genuine thing. "You're family now. That's what family does."
Then she's gone, and I'm alone in my apartment, stumbling to my bedroom and collapsing onto the bed still wearing the dress and heels.
I should change. Should wash my face. Should do all the responsible things.
Instead, I close my eyes.
And I dream. Of Hades. Of our future together.