You didn’t mean to fall for her, not at all—certainly not like this. But it happened, quiet and insidious, before you even realized it.

Julian’s Greek class gathered in the dim, wood-paneled room again, the lamps casting a honeyed glow over the oak desks, the flicker of candles wavering in the corners. Seven of you, scripts in hand, forming a loose circle. Reading, of course,The Odyssey. Julian had never made you act before—that was for the theater students. But today, he insisted, and of course, no one refused. Least of all you.

He handed out roles. You? Athena, goddess of war. You weren’t really paying attention to the rest until Camilla’s name broke through the room. Penelope. Odysseus’ wife. Henry’s wife.

The reading started, and the words felt heavier than you’d expected. Camilla’s voice—steady, velvet, more real than it should be—spoke of love, fidelity, heartbreak. Lines that weren’t hers, but they might as well have been. It didn’t matter that she was acting. Every word she gave to Henry felt like a knife in your chest.

No one deserved Camilla Macaulay. No man, least of all Henry Winter. But certainly not you either. Yet you couldn’t help it—you’d give her everything. You would love her.

“I have been true to you, though all said you were lost to me forever. No one else has touched my heart.”

Her words twisted into you, far too raw, too perfect. And for a moment—just a moment—her gaze met yours. Something passed between you, a flicker of understanding, like she felt the weight of it too. It broke the spell.

When class ended, you packed your things slowly, unwilling to meet anyone’s eyes, wanting nothing than to disappear. The others had already gone, but she hadn’t. Camilla lingered, perched on her desk, her legs swinging lazily. Watching you.

“You were really good as Athena,” she said softly, that familiar warmth in her voice.

You closed your eyes for a second, hating the sound of her voice for the first time in your life.

God, not now.