Page 38 of Loved By Aphrodite

She snorted and propped herself up on her elbow to look at him. “Me? Laugh at you?” She shook her head, her hair tumbling over her shoulder. “If anything, I thought you’d think I was being dramatic and ignore me.”

Hephaestus chuckled, his hand sliding up to cup her face. “We really were idiots, weren’t we?”

“The absolute worst,” she agreed with mock seriousness.

He kissed her forehead, lingering there for a moment. “But maybe we were just waiting for the right time.”

She smirked. “You’re just saying that to sound deep.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning back at her. “But if it means more mornings like this, I’ll say whatever you want.”

She laughed, pressing a kiss to his jawline before settling back on the pillows. “I wonder what this house has planned for breakfast.”

He sat up and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “I think this house knows what we need.” He glanced toward the kitchen, then back at her, his grin widening. “Breakfast is served.”

She raised an eyebrow, curious, but not quite ready to leave the warmth of their bed. He stood and offered her his hand, helping her up with an ease that made her heart flutter.

She snapped her fingers, and by the time they reached the table, they were dressed and ready to face whatever the house threw at them.

The table was already set with an array of food, making her mouth water. Fresh fruit, yogurt, cheesy tiropita, and a pitcher of nectar sparkled in the morning light.

“I guess the house knows how to set a mood,” she said, sitting down and picking up a piece of fruit.

Hephaestus laughed, pouring them both a drink. “Maybe it’s not so bad being stuck here after all.”

After finishing the surprisingly delicious breakfast that the house had provided, she leaned back in her chair, savoring the last sip of her coffee. She glanced at Hephaestus, who was busy polishing off the plate of fresh fruit and felt an odd sense of ease. The tension that had crackled between them the day beforeseemed to have dissipated, replaced by something softer, more natural.

“Well,” she said, standing and brushing imaginary crumbs from her hands. “I suppose I’ll check the door again. Who knows? Maybe the house has decided we’ve suffered enough and unlocked it.”

“Good luck with that,” he said, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I wouldn’t mindsufferinga little more.”

She waved him off, striding toward the door with determination. “You’ll see. Maybe it’s had a change of heart.”

But just as she reached for the handle, a sharppopechoed through the room. She spun around to see a flash of golden light near the fireplace. When it faded, a large book bound in shimmering leather sat on the mantel, its cover gleaming faintly in the sunlight.

“What is—” she started, taking a cautious step toward it.

Hephaestus was already on his feet, his chair scraping on the floor. “Looks like the house has something else in store for us.”

She eyed the book suspiciously. “Of course it does.”

Hephaestus chuckled, stopping beside her. “You going to open it, or should I?”

She glanced at him, then back at the book. “Fine. But if it spits out anything weird, I’m blaming you.”

With that, she reached for the book, its surface warm under her fingertips. The moment she touched it, the cover flipped open on its own, and the pages began to turn rapidly, glowing faintly as they did. Finally, it settled on a blank page.

Then, in elegant script, words began to appear:

“To move forward, you must reflect on the past. Recall what was once shared and lost. Write your truth, and only then will the house release its hold on you.”

She crossed her arms. “Write our truth? What is this, divine couples therapy?”

Hephaestus smirked faintly. “Seems like the house thinks we need it.”

“Fantastic,” she rolled her eyes. “Nothing like being trapped in a house that doubles as a therapist.”

But as she turned to look at him, she caught the flicker of something in his expression—hesitation, maybe even vulnerability. It made her pause, her irritation softening slightly.

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