Standing in the doorway was a woman of breathtaking beauty, so otherworldly that mere words could hardly capture it. Her long, golden hair flowed like sunlight, reaching down to the small of her back, and her golden eyes gleamed with a mesmerising allure. Every inch of her presence commanded attention, as if the gods themselves had sculpted her from the essence of beauty itself.
It was Helen.
Helen of Sparta, once the queen of Menelaus, but now... Helen of Troy.
Paris's face lit up with joy as Helen entered the room. "Helen!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with happiness and relief. To him, she was still the same breathtaking woman who had stolen his heart, her beauty transcending the realm of mortals.
But Helen did not even glance in his direction.
