Epilogue: One Year Later

The morning light pours through the bedroom window, casting soft golden rays across the room as you lean toward the vanity mirror, the gentle sweep of your mascara wand gliding through your lashes. It’s a slow, deliberate motion, one you’ve long perfected, bringing just the right amount of emphasis to your eyes. You blink, admiring the way they pop against your fair skin, your reflection staring back at you with a quiet confidence that took time to grow into.

Your blonde hair—yes, still blonde, because of course Liam is obsessed with you as a blonde—cascades over your shoulders in soft, loose waves. You reach for your lip gloss, a sheer, peachy shade that makes your lips look effortlessly plump, and swipe it on with practiced ease, pressing them together to ensure the perfect glossy sheen.

You’re not dressing up for anything extravagant today, just a lazy day at home, but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy looking and feeling good. Your lingerie is simple yet elegant—a delicate lace bra in a creamy ivory shade, hugging your curves comfortably, paired with matching lace-trimmed panties that sit high on your hips. Over that, you slip into a soft, fitted tank top in pale pink, the fabric clinging to you in all the right ways, paired with high-waisted lounge shorts in a heather gray, the kind that sit snug on your waist but loose around your thighs. You like the way they feel, how they accentuate your figure without trying too hard. You’re casual, cozy, but still effortlessly sexy.

Just as you cap your lip gloss and lean back with a satisfied sigh, the bedroom door swings open.

“Well, well,” Liam’s voice carries through the room, filled with amusement as he adjusts the cuffs of his dress shirt. His tie is still loose around his collar, hanging untied over his chest, and his blazer lays forgotten on the bed. His eyes do a slow, appreciative sweep over you, that familiar playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at you. All dolled up just to lounge around the house, huh?”

You meet his gaze through the mirror, raising a brow. “Excuse me for wanting to feel pretty.”

“Oh, you don’t have to try to feel pretty, babe. You just are.” He steps up behind you, resting his hands on your waist as he bends down slightly, his lips hovering just beside your ear. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes, though a smile betrays you. “Flattery this early in the morning? What do you want?”

“Can’t a guy just appreciate his incredibly hot, glossed-up girlfriend?” He drags his hands lightly along your waist, fingertips brushing just under the hem of your top, teasing but never quite crossing the line. “You know I love it when your lips look like this.”

You turn your head slightly, giving him a teasing side glance. “Hmm. You love it when my lips are glossy, huh?” You pucker them ever so slightly, exaggerating the shine.

Liam chuckles, his grip tightening just a little. “Oh, don’t tempt me, Mia.”

“Or what?”

His response is wordless—he simply closes the distance, capturing your lips in a deep, slow kiss, his hands settling firmly on your hips as he pulls you against him. You let out a soft hum of amusement, feeling the way he takes his time, savoring the taste of your lip gloss like it’s his favorite dessert. His fingers trace lazy circles against the fabric of your shorts, his touch warm and firm.

By the time he pulls away, his smirk has only grown. “You taste like peaches,” he murmurs.

You lick your lips, feigning innocence. “Oh? Guess you’ll just have to get used to it.”

“Oh, I am used to it,” he shoots back, stepping away with a teasing glint in his eyes. He reaches for his tie, finally beginning to knot it properly. “But you, my dear, need to make yourself useful today.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Excuse me?”

“The mailroom,” he reminds you, finishing off his tie with a neat tug. “Go grab the mail today, might be some packages there too.”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Hmm. I could go down and get it.”

“Yes, you will go down and get it.”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “You’re getting bossy in your old age.”

Liam, now fully dressed, turns toward you with that cocky grin. “What can I say? I’ve got a hot girlfriend who listens to me sometimes.”

You snort. “Sometimes being the key word.”

He laughs, stepping up to you one last time, his hands coming to rest on your hips again. This time, his touch is softer, more affectionate, his thumbs rubbing slow, absentminded circles against your sides. His eyes hold that familiar warmth—the kind that has deepened over time, moving past infatuation and into something real.

“Love you,” he murmurs, pressing a final kiss to your forehead.

You smile, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. “Love you too.”

With one last glance at you, Liam grabs his keys, gives you a wink, and heads for the door. The sound of it clicking shut behind him leaves the room in silence, but you stay where you are, standing by the vanity, your fingers tracing over your lips as you stare after him.

A warmth settles deep in your chest—soft, steady, and undeniable.

A year ago, you had fought for this. Fought to be this.

And standing here now, knowing how much you are loved, how much you love in return…

It had all been worth it.

The hallway was quiet as you stepped out of your apartment, locking the door behind you and adjusting the strap of your small crossbody bag. The air smelled faintly of fresh coffee and someone’s lingering perfume, a mix of scents that had become familiar in this building, a sign of lives being lived behind every closed door. You made your way toward the elevator, your slippers barely making a sound against the polished floors, your mind settling into the comfortable rhythm of routine.

This was normal. This was your normal.

No second-guessing, no hesitation.

You pressed the elevator button and leaned back against the wall, arms folded loosely as you waited. It was funny how much had changed in a year—how you had changed. The you from back then, the one who had been thrown headfirst into Aphrodite’s curse, would never have imagined this quiet, effortless integration. But now? You weren’t surviving in this life anymore. You were living it.

The soft ding of the elevator pulled you from your thoughts, and you stepped inside, pressing the button for the lobby. The doors slid shut, and the quiet hum of descent filled the space.

A year. It had been a full year since that day on Olympus.

Liam hadn’t gotten the CashApp job. He had nailed the interview, made a great impression, but ultimately, the hiring board went in another direction. It had been a letdown at the time—he had really wanted that opportunity. But fate had its own plans, and instead of CashApp, he had ended up with Euphorica Industries. A massive name in the world of high-class fashion, beauty, and cosmetics, with offices in major cities worldwide—including, luckily, Toronto. You wondered if that was Tyche looking down on you.

The referral had been a stroke of luck, one he hadn’t even seen coming. The interviewer at CashApp had been impressed enough to pass his name along to a recruiter at Euphorica, and before he knew it, he was sitting in another interview, this time for a position that would have never been on his radar otherwise. But they saw potential in him, and he landed the job. The pay was good, really good—enough to support both of you while you finished your degree—but it wasn’t some billionaire playboy salary. You weren’t rolling in luxury, but you were comfortable. A nice apartment downtown, stable finances, no more stressing over splitting grocery bills down to the last cent.

The doors slid open at the lobby, and you stepped out, making your way toward the mailroom.

College had been… difficult. There was no sugarcoating it. After everything you had gone through, trying to keep up with your classes had been brutal. You had failed some courses. Not because you weren’t capable, but because everything had been too much at the time. The frustration of it had burned deep—you had always prided yourself on pushing through, on handling things, but for the first time, you had hit a wall. Dropping out had almost felt like an option, especially when Liam had reassured you that financially, you didn’t have to keep going right away. But after coming so far, you refused to quit.

You had retaken the failed courses. You had clawed your way through the burnout, through the mental exhaustion, through every moment of wanting to just throw in the towel. And now? You were nearly at the finish line.

You turned the corner and stepped into the mailroom, scanning the rows of mailboxes before heading toward the pickup counter. A bored-looking clerk glanced up from his computer, then wordlessly went to retrieve your package.

The biggest change, though—the one that mattered more than anything—was your relationship with Liam.

You had always been close, had always been best friends before anything else. But now? Now there was depth beyond anything you had known before. It wasn’t just about the passion—though that part of your relationship was undeniably amazing—but the comfort, the understanding, the way you could just exist together without having to try. The way he knew you inside and out, the way you trusted him in ways you had never trusted anyone before.

The way he loved you.

And the way you loved him.

It still made you laugh when you remembered the first time you had sex after that day on Olympus, and you had to tell Liam not to cum inside. He was furious, but over the months he had matured and come to accept that he can't do that every time. Just sometimes.

“Here,” the clerk grunted, dragging a large, heavy-looking box onto the counter with minimal effort. You blinked. That was… definitely bigger than you expected.

“Uh. Thanks.” You reached for the package, immediately realizing just how heavy it was. You braced yourself, arms wrapping around it as you tried to lift it without looking like you were struggling.

You were struggling.

With an awkward shuffle, you adjusted your grip, managing to at least get it up into your arms. The weight pressed against your chest, and you let out a slow breath, debating if you should just awkwardly push it across the floor instead. But no—you had this.

You turned, taking careful steps back toward the elevator, the package slightly obscuring your view as you maneuvered around the hallway corners.

Besides… you knew that what was in this box was about to be something big.

The apartment door clicked shut behind you, and with a soft exhale, you set the heavy package down near the kitchen counter, rolling your shoulders to ease the strain. Your arms were still burning from the struggle of carrying it up, but you did it. That had to count for something.

With a satisfied hum, you moved to the kitchen, flicking on the coffee maker. The comforting scent of fresh brew quickly filled the air, and as you waited, you leaned against the counter, letting the moment settle.

This was your life now.

A normal life, with morning coffees, apartment errands, and relationship routines—except, of course, for the minor detail that you and Liam had a literal goddess at your beck and call.

Aphrodite.

Your lips twitched slightly at the thought of her, the memories of the past year surfacing with an almost surreal clarity. She had been an adjustment, not just because of the raw power she wielded, but because of the bizarre way she had gone from being an all-powerful tormentor to something… else.

At first, she had hated her punishment. Being **** to listen to your and Liam’s desires, to serve the very person she had cursed, had been infuriating for her. You still remembered those first few times you had called on her—how she had shown up seething, her eyes practically glowing with frustration, her voice dripping with venom as she reluctantly fulfilled whatever request was made of her.

But over time? She had mellowed out.

You and Liam hadn’t abused her powers, not really. Sure, there had been indulgences—Liam had definitely taken advantage of the fact that Aphrodite could push his stamina past human limits, leading to multi-orgasmic sessions that had left you both wrecked in the best way possible. And then there had been the times you had asked her to change things up—a few particularly wild nights where she had turned you into one of Liam's celebrity crushes, allowing you to experience what it was like to have one of your biggest fans destroy your sex for an evening.

And, of course, the threesomes.

That had started as a joke. Liam, ever the shameless bastard, had offhandedly mentioned the idea, and to everyone’s shock, Aphrodite had actually gone along with it. At first, she had taken on different forms—famous actresses, Instagram models, even fictional characters, all tailored to whatever fantasy Liam had cooked up. But recently?

She had stopped pretending.

The last time she had spent the night with you both, it had been as herself, her divine form laid bare between you and Liam, her golden hair fanned out against the sheets, her body trembling under both of your touches. Even she had seemed surprised by it, by how natural it felt, by how much she enjoyed it. Her staying the night was a surprise to you both.

You weren’t sure what she was to you now. A mutual friend with benefits? A divine third party in your relationship? It was complicated, but it worked.

The coffee maker beeped, snapping you from your thoughts. You poured yourself a cup, stirring in a splash of cream before taking a slow sip, savoring the warmth.

Aphrodite wasn’t the only thing that had changed in the past year. There was also your past—the one Theodon had rewritten to integrate you fully into this reality.

You had always been Liam’s best friend in this world, but the rewrite had made it seem like you were a guy and a girl who had been best friends for ages. Even your families talk about you both like they always say it coming, and it was woven so seamlessly that there were moments where even you questioned if this had always been the truth.

Your parents hadn’t changed much, though your mother had developed an almost obsessive fondness for Liam. His parents, in turn, had treated you like a daughter for as long as you could remember, their affection genuine and deep, as if you had always been part of their lives this way.

And then there was Chloe.

Your sister was still your sister in all the ways that mattered—still the same sarcastic, overprotective **** in your life—but the shift in dynamic had been jarring. You were no longer the younger brother; now, you were the little sister. That had taken getting used to. You had spent so much of your life being the one to look out for her, but now the roles had reversed, and she was the one who felt the need to protect you. It had led to a few awkward moments, some difficult adjustments, but over time, you had settled into it.

Still, there were times where it hit you—where you’d be flipping through an old photo album or listening to a family story that you _shouldn’t _have been a part of, and you’d feel the disconnect, that brief moment of wrongness. Like wearing a skin that wasn’t entirely yours.

But then you’d look at Liam, at the life you had built together, at the love that had grown between you, and all of that doubt would fade away.

Because this was real.

You took another sip of coffee, exhaling softly as you turned your gaze toward the unopened package sitting on the counter.

With a small smirk, you set your mug down, reaching for a knife to slice through the tape.

The box sat before you, its cardboard edges slightly worn from the journey it had taken to get here. The packing tape had already been sliced open, the flaps waiting for you to pull them apart. There was a strange weight in your chest—an anticipation that curled deep inside you, wrapping around your ribs and squeezing gently. You had no idea why your hands trembled as you reached for the lid. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was caffeine.

Maybe it was something else entirely.

You peeled the box open, fingers brushing against thick, ivory-colored cardstock. A neatly stacked pile of envelopes, bound together with soft satin ribbon, greeted you. Your breath caught as you reached down, slipping the top invitation free, feeling the quality of the paper between your fingertips. Heavy. Luxurious.

And then you saw the words.

Your heart stopped.

Liam Weds Mia.

The world around you blurred, everything else falling into the background as your focus zeroed in on those three simple words, inked in elegant gold script. You weren’t breathing. You couldn’t. The invitation sat in your hands, its weight suddenly infinite, as if the entire course of your life had been condensed into a single moment, a single piece of paper.

You swallowed hard.

Your fingers traced over the letters slowly, feeling their slight embossing, as if touching them would make them more real. But they were real. This wasn’t a dream, wasn’t some hypothetical possibility floating in the distance.

It was happening.

You were getting married.

A sharp inhale rattled into your lungs, breaking the suffocating stillness that had taken hold of you. The shock hadn’t worn off, but beneath it—beneath the dizziness, the surreal rush of it all—came something else. Something deeper.

Love.

Joy.

That overwhelming, dizzying sense of knowing that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

Your eyes flicked downward, to your right hand, where a delicate yet unmistakable diamond ring sat against your skin. It caught the light in the dim apartment, casting tiny rainbows along the surface of the invitation as your fingers flexed, gripping the card a little tighter, as if holding onto a dream that had somehow become reality.

You’d had this ring for days now—no, weeks. The proposal had been beautiful, intimate, everything you hadn’t even known you wanted until Liam had gotten down on one knee with that impossible grin of his and asked you to spend the rest of your life with him.

And you had said yes.

Now, the proof was in your hands. The invitations were ready. Soon, they’d be sent to your families, to your friends, to the people who had been a part of your life—both the one you had before and the one you had built since.

A soft, breathy laugh escaped you, more disbelief than amusement. It had been over a year since everything had changed. Since you had first woken up in a body that didn’t feel like yours. Since Aphrodite had ripped apart everything you thought you knew about yourself. Since you had clawed your way through trials that had pushed you to your limits.

And yet…

This wasn’t a punishment.

This wasn’t some cruel twist of fate.

This was bliss.

This was wonderful.

And it had led you here, to this very moment, standing in your kitchen with a wedding invitation in your hands, your heart full to the brim with emotions so strong they almost hurt.

Your lips parted, voice soft as the words slipped out before you could stop them.

“Mia Fielder.”

A small shiver rolled down your spine. The name felt warm on your tongue, unfamiliar and yet completely right. You tried it again, letting the syllables settle, letting them belong to you.

“Mia Fielder.”

This was your life. This was real.

You smiled, the kind of smile that came from deep within your chest, the kind that ached in the best possible way. Carefully, reverently, you placed the invitation back in the box, smoothing your hand over the stack as if tucking them in, as if sealing the reality of it all with a simple touch.

Your fingers lingered for just a moment more, your ring catching the light once again as you pressed your palm against the paper, feeling the future resting beneath your hand.

Mia Fielder.

It had a nice ring to it.

THE END

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! For the first time in my (very short) writing journey, I’ve actually completed a story! Exactly 167 chapters later, it’s surreal to finally reach the end.

This entire journey has been a whirlwind—I wrote each chapter without knowing what came next, only that I had to bring this story to life after a late, sleepless-night idea. The incredible feedback from you, the readers, has been beyond anything I expected—your thoughts, excitement, and encouragement kept me going. Honestly, this story wouldn’t have come together, let alone been completed, without you.

So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. If you’re reading this, that means you made it to the end, and that alone means the world to me. Let me know in the comments if you have ideas for spin-offs in this universe—I’d love to hear them!

And as a little teaser for my next story… let’s just say the name Euphorica Industries will be making a return.