Okay.

Let’s review the situation.

Ra stood in her chambers, staring at herself in the mirror like she might file a formal complaint against her own life.

“Fantastic,” she muttered. “Truly. Excellent choices all around.”

She reached behind her, unhooking the clasps of her gown with more force than necessary, the fabric sliding down her body like it was also judging her.

Because it should be.

Everything should be.

“You married a god,” she said to her reflection. “A god. Capital G. Serpent. Ancient. Golden tattoos that glow when he’s irritated. Great decision. Ten out of ten. Would destabilize your emotional ecosystem again.”

The gown hit the floor.

Ra stepped out of it, grabbing the glass of wine off the table like it was a coping mechanism with legs.

Which, honestly?

It was.

She took a long sip.

Too long.

“Cool,” she exhaled. “Now let’s talk about the rest of the mess.”

She walked toward the bath, already running, steam curling up like it knew she needed to be submerged before she made another catastrophic life choice.

“Exhibit A,” she continued, pacing like she was presenting to an invisible jury. “Tyler.”

She pointed at nothing.

“Best friend. Parabatai. War partner. Vampire warlock with California charm and absolutely no respect for emotional boundaries.”

Another sip.

“That man smiles like therapy is optional and chaos is a personality trait. And I let him spin me around like I forgot gravity exists.”

She paused.

“…I did forget gravity.”

She sighed.

“Moving on.”

She dipped her toe into the bath, testing the heat, then stepped in fully, lowering herself slowly until the water wrapped around her like it had been waiting for this exact meltdown.

“Exhibit B,” she said, leaning her head back against the edge. “Erik.”

She closed her eyes.

Bad idea.

Immediate flashback.

Green eyes. That jawline. That stupid, perfect restraint that cracks just enough to ruin your entire week.

She groaned.

“Why does he look like that?” she muttered. “Why is he built like responsibility and regret had a very attractive child?”

She took another drink.

“‘We were simple,’” she mimicked him softly, rolling her eyes.

Pause.

“…we were simple.”

Her chest tightened.

“Ugh. Disgusting. Hate that.”

She sank lower into the water.

“Because here’s the thing—” she continued, pointing at the ceiling now like it was personally responsible— “he’s not wrong.”

Another sip.

“That’s the problem. He’s never wrong in the emotionally devastating ways.”

She exhaled sharply.

“We had a life. A real one. Coffee. Careers. Kids. Stability.”

Pause.

“…and I looked at that and said, ‘you know what this needs? A war.’”

She blinked at the ceiling.

“I need to be studied.”

Silence.

Steam.

Wine.

Then—

“Exhibit C.”

Her voice dropped.

Slower.

More dangerous.

“Mehen.”

She sat up slightly in the bath.

“That man—” she started, then stopped.

Then laughed.

“Where do I even begin?”

She waved her glass vaguely.

“Golden. Arrogant. Infuriating. Talks like destiny personally reports to him. Looks at me like I’m a decision he already made.”

She shook her head.

“I should hate that.”

Pause.

“…I don’t hate that.”

She sank back again.

“He doesn’t chase,” she murmured. “He waits. Like time is his employee. Like I’m going to walk into him eventually and he’s just… letting it happen.”

She frowned.

“That is deeply offensive.”

Another sip.

“And yet—”

She closed her eyes.

“—when he looks at me, it’s not admiration.”

Her voice softened.

“It’s recognition.”

That word lingered.

Uncomfortable.

True.

Ra inhaled slowly.

“Exhibit D,” she said, eyes opening again. “Lion.”

She immediately laughed.

“Oh, that one is a problem.”

She sat up again, splashing slightly.

“Who gave him permission to exist like that?” she demanded. “Who told him he could walk around looking like temptation learned how to negotiate?”

She mimicked his voice:

“‘If you ever want to talk… or—’”

She stopped herself.

Eyes wide.

Then groaned, dropping her head back again.

“Oh, my God.”

She dragged a hand down her face.

“He said that. Out loud. To me.”

Pause.

“…and I didn’t immediately set him on fire.”

She stared at the ceiling again.

“Growth.”

A beat.

“…questionable growth.”

She took another drink, slower this time.

“Because here’s the real issue,” she said, voice quieter now, more honest.

“I don’t feel the same thing with any of them.”

Silence.

The bathwater shifted around her.

“Tyler feels like home base. Like no matter what happens, he’s there. Constant. Unshakeable.”

She swallowed.

“Erik feels like what should have been. The version of me that chose peace and actually stayed.”

Her grip tightened on the glass.

“Mehen feels like what I am now. Power. Edge. Fire. Something that doesn’t ask permission to exist.”

A breath.

“And Lion—”

She paused.

Longer this time.

“Lion feels like a mistake I’m going to enjoy before I regret it.”

She stared at the water.

Watching it ripple.

“I am a problem,” she said softly.

Then corrected herself:

“No.”

She sat up, spine straightening, something in her shifting back into place.

“I am a choice.”

The room felt different after that.

Sharper.

Clearer.

She exhaled slowly.

“They don’t get to decide this,” she murmured. “Not Mehen. Not Tyler. Not Erik. Not Lion.”

Her voice steadied.

“I do.”

A beat.

Then she smirked slightly.

“Eventually.”

She took one last sip of wine, draining her glass of the red wine, and setting the glass down beside the tub.

“But not tonight.”

She leaned back, letting the heat sink into her bones, the tension loosening just enough to breathe.

Because tonight?

Tonight she wasn’t choosing.

Tonight she was feeling.

And honestly?

That was chaotic enough.

She closed her eyes.

“…I’m going to need another glass of wine.”

Pause. Breath.Shutting her golden eyes.

“…and possibly better decision-making skills...…but let’s not get unrealistic.”