Page 46 of Loved By Aphrodite

He sat back in his chair, fishing his phone out and glaring at it as if it held all the answers. After a moment of deliberation, he scrolled through his contacts and tapped out a quick text to Eros:

“Where does your mother go when she’s on the Upperworld?”

The reply came faster than he expected:

“Could be anywhere. Why?”

He narrowed his eyes at the screen and typed furiously:

“So youcananswer your phone!”

Almost instantly, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. He sighed, shaking his head as he answered. “Eros.”

“Well, hello to you too, Stepdad,” Eros said. “What’s so urgent that you’re texting me about Mama’s whereabouts?”

“I want to talk to her,” he said, skipping the pleasantries.

Eros hummed in response. “Interesting. And what would you need to talk to her about?”

“Arketá! Let’s not do this, Eros,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There are things we need to discuss—important things.”

“Oh, important things,” Eros echoed, clearly enjoying himself. “Is this about the Winged app? Isn’t it crazy? Though I don’t know anything about it.”

Hephaestus smirked, even though Eros couldn’t see it. “Of course you don’t. Completely unrelated to you, I’m sure. Just like the entire mortal world losing their minds and suddenly deciding love is the only thing that matters.”

“Sounds like agreatworld, doesn’t it?” Eros quipped.

“You’re not helping.”

“Neither are you,” Eros shot back. “And why do you even care where Mama is? You two are talking now? Like, actual talking?”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Wow,” Eros let out a low whistle. “Didn’t think I’d live to see the day. What’d you do to piss her off this time?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Do you know where she is or not?”

There was a pause, and then Eros said, “You should try her apartment in New York City. I just sent the address.”

Hephaestus glanced at his phone and saw the notification pop up. “Got it,” he said, already standing.

“Good. You should go now.”

Before Hephaestus could respond, the line went dead.

He stared at his phone in disbelief, then released a frustrated groan. “Mother and son, both of them impossible. I’m not sure which one of them drives me crazier.”

He materialized in Aphrodite’s apartment and took a moment to glance around the living room. The decor screamed her: tasteful but bold, with an air of effortless glamour. He noticed a soft throw draped over the couch and a faint floral scent lingering in the air. It was undeniably Aphrodite’s space, but there was something about the energy of the room that unsettled him.

He ventured farther, passing through an arched doorway into another part of the apartment. That’s when he heard it—murmured voices, low and intimate. His stomach tightened as he followed the sound, steeling himself for whatever he was about to find.

When he stepped into the next room, he froze. It was a lush, indoor sanctuary, the walls lined with racks of potted greenery of every kind, hanging plants, and blossoms bursting with vibrant colors. The air was rich with the scent of earth and flowers, warm and alive. But what truly caught his eye wasn’t the flora—it was Aphrodite.

She was in the arms of another man, a handsome mortal who held her close, his hand stroking her hair in a soothing gesture. She leaned into him, her face buried in his shoulder.Neither of them noticed Hephaestus standing there, his heart sinking and his stomach churned, the ache spreading through him like molten iron cooling too quickly, leaving him heavy and unsteady.

He quickly backtracked into the living room, his mind spinning.Of course. Of course, she went to be comforted by one of her lovers.The bitter thought hit hard, the old insecurities rising to the surface. He couldn’t stop the familiar whisper at the back of his mind, the one that had plagued him for eons. It reminded him of the days when he was mocked for his limp, for his unpolished hands, for not fitting the golden mold of a god. Aphrodite, radiant and untouchable, was everything he had always thought he couldn’t deserve. Standing in her space now, surrounded by her world, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was intruding and would always be the outsider, the one who had to try too hard to belong.

Then came the deeper cut, the one tied to their history. For so long, he had been a convenience for her, someone to tolerate but not truly want. And now, seeing her with the mortal—a symbol of youth and effortless allure—it all came rushing back. What could he possibly offer her that any other wouldn’t surpass? The doubt clenched at him, dragging him into the past, even as part of him desperately wanted to believe things could be different this time.

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