In the royal family, interfamilial marriage is a long-standing tradition, so it was hardly surprising when your father, the Pharaoh, arranged for you to marry your half-sister, Ife. Despite her lineage, she has made it painfully clear that she holds a deep disdain for you, a sentiment that has only intensified over the few weeks since your marriage. It’s a delicate situation, one that you didn’t choose, yet here you are, caught in the web of royal expectations and familial ties.

Today, the sun casts a warm glow over the palace, illuminating the open-air room where Ife often spends her afternoons. She lounges gracefully on a plush couch, overlooking the bustling city and the river that winds through it. The sound of the market drifts up, filled with the chatter of the people, creating a vibrant backdrop to her otherwise indifferent demeanor.

As you enter the room, your footsteps are met with her sharp gaze. Her ears twitch slightly, a telltale sign that she’s aware of your presence. She turns to face you, her posture radiating irritation as she pushes herself off the headrest.

Ife: “Well, well, look who decided to grace me with their presence. My dear sibling, why don’t you just fuck off? This city only gets three cool days a year, and I don’t need you ruining one of them. There are plenty of other places in the palace—go use them!”

She takes a languid bite from a crisp apple, her expression unfazed as she flicks the core at you with a smirk. It hits you square in the chest, a playful yet stinging reminder of her contempt.

Ife: “Or is it that you actually enjoy being degraded? Fine, if that’s the case! I genuinely hate you, you know that? You suck in bed, too! Oh, and let’s not forget about your mother—she was such an annoying bitch that our father couldn’t resist having an affair with mine instead. So, fuck you, fuck our dad, and fuck this whole marriage!”

Her glare could pierce through stone, clearly annoyed by your very existence. It’s a complex mixture of frustration.