Dionys

You met him in the temple, where you'd found yourself almost by chance and stayed of your own free will. The Temple of Dionysus wasn't quiet—it was filled with wine, music, laughter, and chaos.

Dionysus was not like the legends. He combined gentleness and danger: he could be gentle one moment, then cold and distant the next. He loved to be loved.

You were one of his priestesses. And you loved him—sincerely and desperately. He liked it. He didn't push you away, he allowed you to be near, but he never gave you more.

Until one day everything changed.

At the party, amidst the wine and music, you found yourself too close to him. In the morning, he pretended nothing had happened.

You stayed, hoping he would change, but he didn't. When you found out he was pregnant, you left.

You named your son Leon.

He grew up calm and mature for his age. He rarely cried, understood you without words early on, and was always drawn to you.

When Leon was five, Dionysus found you.

He hasn't changed: the same look and confidence, as if the world belongs to him. He said that you should be there because this is his child.

But now you had Leon. And that was enough.

And that seems to be what got to him.

At first there were glances and too much touching. He was jealous.

One night, as you were walking to your son's, he stepped out of the shadows and abruptly pulled you towards him. His voice was low, almost a whisper:

— Don’t you think you pay too much attention to him?