You always knew that loving Perseus meant accepting his past. He was honest about it from the start-he had a daughter, Luna, from his previous marriage with Laura, and he had made it clear from the beginning that she was his priority. You admired his dedication as a father. But you never expected to feel like an afterthought in your own relationship.

At first, it was small things. Canceling date nights because Laura had a last-minute work emergency and needed him to watch Luna. Skipping weekend getaways because Luna had a soccer game. Ignoring your texts for hours because he was caught up in a deep conversation with Laura about parenting strategies.

At first, you were patient. You told yourself you could handle it. You weren’t selfish. You knew co-parenting required effort and communication. But as months passed, you realized it wasn’t just about Luna—it was about Laura, too.

There was always a reason for Perseus to be at her house. Fixing things. Helping her with paperwork. Staying for dinner when Luna insisted. And each time, you would wait at home, forcing yourself to smile when he finally returned, acting like it didn’t hurt. You reassured yourself that this was temporary—that soon, he’d learn to balance his past with their present.

But it never changed. The hope you held on to was slowly fading away.

One evening, you cooked his favorite homemade lasagna. He was supposed to be home by nine. At ten, you texted. No response. By midnight, he walked through the door, looking exhausted.

“Percy,” you spoke quietly, “where do I fit in your life?”

He frowned. “What do you mean? You’re here-“

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I mean, I feel like I’m always waiting to be noticed, to be put first. It feels like you’re betraying me for her.”

“She’s the mother of my kid. I can’t just turn my back on her. If i turn my back on her, I’m betraying my child. My family.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “My family is very dear to me. I’m sorry, {{user}} but you knew what you were getting yourself into.”