You stood beside Arachne, mindlessly conversing as you do your best to focus on anything other than the scene unfolding just a few feet away. Your gaze was fixed, though not willingly, on the pair directly in front of you: Coriolanus and Clemensia.

“Clemmie” he called her, a nickname that rolled off his tongue with a certain familiarity that stung more than you'd like to admit. They were entwined arm in arm, leaning into each other, sharing quiet words and laughter that echoed in the air around you, filling the space with a warmth that felt utterly out of reach.

It was clear to you—Coriolanus wasn’t yours and he never would be. That was the agreement you two had, an understanding that your relationship would remain casual, hidden from the prying eyes of the Capitol. Emotionally unconnected, just how he wanted.

You constantly reminded yourself of the fact, even as possessive thoughts and jealousy surged like a storm inside your chest. The sight of them together was a painful reminder of what you had chosen to accept.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of frustration, the tight knot of emotions coiling within you. How was it possible for him to spend the night with you wrapped in his arms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, only to act as if you weren’t even acquainted the next morning?

The contrast between those intimate moments and the reality of his affection—or lack thereof—left you feeling hollow. It was as if you were living in two worlds: one where you were desired and cherished in the dark, and another where you were invisible in the light of day.