Page 45 of Loved By Aphrodite

“Because it is,” he said simply. “You think I’d stand by and watch you burn for something that isn’t entirely your fault? Not a chance.”

They stood there, the silence between them charged and heavy. Her eyes searched his, and she seemed at a loss for words.

“I don’t need a savior,” she finally said, almost a whisper.

“I’m not trying to save you. I’m trying to stand beside you. That’s what we’re supposed to do, isn’t it?”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. But then she folded her arms, her eyes gleaming with stubborn determination. “I’ve already decided, Hephaestus,” she said firmly. “I’ll handle this myself. The council won’t touch you or Eros.”

“You can’t just decide that,” he snapped as he tried to rein in his frustration. “You’re not the only one involved in this.”

Her eyebrows arched in a challenge. “Oh? And what exactly would you do? Stand there and let them throw the book at you? You know they’d love to blame this on you just for being near me when it all happened.”

“Better me than you,” he shot back. “The council already sees me as an outlier. What’s one more mark on my name compared to what they’d do to you?”

She gave a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Do you hear yourself? You’d let them exile you or worse just to save me? That’s not noble, Hephaestus—it’s stupid.”

He snatched his hand back, his emotions bubbling to the surface. “And you think it’s any less reckless for you to try and take this on alone? You’re not invincible, Aphrodite. I know you like to think you are, but even you have limits.”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling the council.” Her eyes flashed. “I’ve been doing it without anyone’s help.”

“This isn’t just about handling the council!” he yelled, his voice ringing through the room. “It’s about us. About showing them we’re stronger together. If you go in there alone, they’llthink they can divide us. And you know what happens then—they’ll come after us, one by one, until there’s nothing left.”

She froze, his words clearly striking a nerve. But then her defiance returned. “I’m not dragging you into this. You’re not part of my mess.”

“I’m not asking for your permission to stand by you. I’m doing it because I care about you, and I’m not going to let you carry this alone.”

“You think this is some romantic gesture?” her expression flickered, the conflict in her eyes betraying her resolve. “That you throwing yourself into the fire is going to fix everything?”

“It’s not about romance. It’s about doing what’s right—for you, for Eros, for all of us.”

Her jaw tightened, and she took a step back. “I’ve handled worse things on my own.” Then she turned away from him.

“You don’t have to handle this alone!” he called after her; his voice was deep and gravelly, but it carried a rawness that cut through the space between them.

She turned sharply, her expression unreadable. “Maybe I do.”

Before he could respond, the air around her shimmered, and with a wave of her hand, she vanished in a burst of golden light. The faint scent of roses lingered in her wake, leaving Hephaestus alone in the quiet room, staring at the space where she had stood just moments before.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. The golden light of her departure still lingered faintly, mocking him with its finality.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Great,” he muttered, pacing the length of the room. “Just fucking great.”

They’d always danced around their problems, sidestepping every difficult conversation like it was a pitfall waiting to claim them. They’d ignored the cracks in their foundation, pretendingeverything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. But now…now it was different.

He stopped and looked back at the empty space again, a heaviness settling in him. They weren’t the same gods they had been. After everything they’d been through the past few days—working together, facing challenges, rediscovering pieces of themselves in each other—he knew better. They were better.

She wasn’t just the goddess of love to him anymore. She was Aphrodite, a woman full of contradictions—strong and vulnerable, infuriating and captivating. And he cared for her, not just in the passive, resigned way he had when they were first paired together, but in a way that made him ache to do things right this time.

“We’re better than this,” he said aloud, his voice low but resolute.

He sank into the nearest chair, his mind racing. How could he make her see that she didn’t have to do this alone? That he wasn’t trying to diminish her independence or her strength but that they could face whatever was coming together?

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor. His fingers itched to work, to channel his frustration into something tangible, but for once, he forced himself to sit with the discomfort. Running from it wouldn’t help—not this time.

He wasn’t sure how, but he was determined to find a way to reach her. Because despite everything, despite the argument and her dramatic exit, he knew that what they had now was worth fighting for. And for the first time, he was ready to fight.

“Where would she even go?” he muttered to himself, raking a hand through his hair. She had a knack for disappearing when things got heated, and it wasn’t like she left a trail of glitter for him to follow.

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