I loved him. There was no denying that. I loved him since I could remember, through my worst days and my best. I loved him completely. But he left. It was madness, loving a god. I was aware of that. I was always aware. Yet this madness… it was my kind of love. My kind of chaos. I couldn’t even blame my mother sometimes. She loved him too, I learned that from her diaries. She loved him for who he was, not the god he was. But I loved him for both. And then he left me. He left because the world was safer without him. Because he thought I didn’t need him anymore. But I am still just a mortal. I will always need him. And now the world is in danger, and he is back. Back to me. But this time, his presence hurts more than his absence ever did. Because he is not the man I remember. I loved him. And I am still foolish enough to say I still do. Maybe loving a god was never meant to have a happy ending.