A WEIGHT TOO HEAVY

The drive home felt endless. The steering wheel was cold in Velma's grip, and her thoughts spun with everything Lucian had told her. Daniel—Azarel—the King of the Underworld. She felt like she was living in a dream she couldn't wake from. The man she had married, the man she had loved, was a god among mortals, hiding in plain sight. And now, the veil was lifting.

Her hands trembled slightly as she turned the car key and the engine hummed into silence. The golden hue of the setting sun bathed the world in soft light, yet none of its beauty reached her heart. She sat there, staring at the door of their home, her mind replaying the past few hours.

Inside, the house was silent. Mrs. Williams had left for the evening, and the air was still. Velma kicked off her shoes, feeling the warmth of the hardwood floor beneath her feet. She passed the living room and moved straight to the couch, collapsing into it. Her entire body felt heavy, like it had been dipped in lead.

Lucian's words echoed in her mind.

"He is Azarel, the king of the underworld. And he has a wife there."

She stared at the ceiling, the soft hum of the refrigerator in the background the only sound breaking the stillness. Her heart ached. Countless memories. Laughter. Passion. Quiet nights and loud mornings. And now, it felt like all of it had been a prelude to this storm.

The door opened just after nine. Daniel walked in, looking tired. His tie was slightly loosened, and his hair tousled from a long day. He paused when he saw her.

"Hey," he said gently. "You waited up."

Velma stood slowly. Her voice trembled. "We need to talk."

Daniel set down his briefcase, his eyes sharpening. "About Lucian?"

"No," she said. "About everything."

He approached slowly. "Okay. I'm listening."

She clenched her hands together, her nails biting into her palm. "I love you, Daniel. But this… this is too much."

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You're not just a man. You're a king. An immortal. And apparently, you have a wife in the underworld."

Daniel's face darkened slightly. "I didn't know. Not until recently."

"But you are him," she whispered. "Azarel. And I don't even know what that means. Am I still your wife? Or am I just… someone you loved in this life?"

He stepped closer, but she held up her hand. "Please don't."

"I haven't changed," he said. "I'm still Daniel. Still the man who fell in love with you. The man who kissed your forehead every night before bed. Who danced with you in the kitchen. Who cried when you said yes."

Tears welled in her eyes. "But you're not just him anymore. And I'm not sure I can handle what you are."

Daniel swallowed hard. "I never wanted this to come out like this."

"And what were you going to do? Hide it from me forever?"

"I didn't remember. I didn't know what I was. Not until recently. Not until everything started changing."

Velma turned away, her arms crossed. "Lucian told me everything. He said he was sent to watch over you. To help you remember who you were."

Daniel's jaw tightened. "I know."

She looked back at him, voice cracking. "This isn't just about you being immortal. It's about what comes with it. A throne. A world I can't understand. A wife who still exists somewhere in the shadows. What am I supposed to do with that?"

He didn't answer.

Velma took a shaky breath. "I don't think I can stay. I don't think I can live like this."

Daniel's face fell. For the first time, she saw pain etched across his features—not just guilt, but heartbreak. And yet, he didn't try to stop her. He didn't argue. He simply nodded.

"If that's what you need," he said quietly.

Then he turned and left the room, the bedroom door closing behind him.

Velma sank back onto the couch. The silence returned, heavier than before. Her heart pounded in her chest, not just from grief, but from the unbearable uncertainty of what came next.

Hours passed. The moon climbed high into the sky, bathing the room in a ghostly light. Velma changed into her robe and stepped out onto the balcony. The cool night air kissed her skin, but she barely noticed. Below, the world moved on, indifferent to the crisis unraveling in her heart.

She thought of leaving. Packing a bag. Calling a taxi. Running to her parents or to a hotel or anywhere that wasn't here. But where could she go? How could she run from a man whose soul was tied to hers? A man who was now more myth than man?

Her tears were silent as they slipped down her cheeks. She wept for the simplicity that was gone. For the love that now bore the weight of ancient thrones and forgotten gods. She had wanted a marriage, not a legend.

She sat outside until her skin went numb from the cold. Then she curled into a blanket on the couch and tried to sleep, but her mind refused to rest.

What would happen now?

Was she bound to a fate she never asked for?

Could love survive something like this?

She closed her eyes, praying for answers. But only the silence answered back.

And the name: Azarel.

It echoed in her mind like a curse… or a calling.