Last week, I was shopping for wedding decor when I spotted Hestia and Orson at an upscale restaurant, chatting with a young woman I didn’t recognize. Hoping to warm things up, I waved with a bright smile. But their expressions soured, and they turned away like I was invisible. The sting hit me like a punch, and I was done taking it.

That evening, I vented to my best friend, Tamsin, over coffee at my apartment. My hands trembled as I clutched my mug, anger spilling over.

“They just… ignored me!” I fumed, my voice quivering. “I waved like a fool, and they smirked, Tamsin—smirked!—then looked away like I was nothing. Who do they think they are?”