Page 39 of Loved By Aphrodite

She sighed, picking up the quill that had appeared beside the book. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

But when she tried to write, the quill wouldn’t move. The book shimmered, and new words appeared:

“Only the truth will do.”

“Well, that’s annoying,” she muttered, tossing the quill to Hephaestus. “Your turn.”

He took the quill and hesitated. His hand hovered over the page before he began to write. Slowly, the letters formed a sentence:“I liked our time here in Thessaly.”

She blinked, her breath catching. “You did?”

He looked at her, his expression unguarded for once. “Yeah. It wasn’t easy, raising Eros, but…it felt like we were building something real. Even if it wasn’t how either of us planned.”

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the edge of the page. “I liked it too,” she admitted softly. “It was the closest I’ve ever felt to…home.”

Hephaestus looked surprised, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he handed her the quill.

This time, the quill moved freely in her hand. She wrote:“I miss how you made me laugh.”

He stared at the words as they appeared on the page, and his lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “You miss that?”

She shrugged, trying to play it off, but her cheeks warmed. “You’re funny when you’re not trying so hard to be serious.”

He laughed—a low, warm sound that sent a shiver through her. “I didn’t know you paid that much attention.”

The quill floated out of her hand, hovering above the book as if inviting him to write again. He took it and added:“You never gave up on Eros, even when I thought it was impossible.”

Her heart squeezed. “He’s my son. I couldn’t give up on him. And neither did you.”

They continued, trading the quill back and forth, each revealing something they had kept hidden. Memories of Thessaly, of quiet nights by the fire, of laughter and arguments, of moments when they had felt closer than they dared to admit.

When the final truth was written—“I cared more than I ever let on,”—the book glowed brightly and vanished, leaving a warmth in the air.

Aphrodite looked at Hephaestus, her chest tight with emotions she wasn’t ready to name. “So…what now?”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing hers. “Maybe we stop pretending we don’t care,” he said softly.

She looked up at him, her gaze locking with his. “Maybe,” she whispered, her voice trembling just slightly.

Hephaestus cupped her cheek, his thumb gently brushing her skin.

And then, as if drawn together by an unseen force, their lips met—a kiss full of all the unspoken words and lingering feelings that had been buried for so long.

It started tentative, as though it was something too fragile to be named. But then it deepened, the restraint melting away under the weight of all they’d held back. Aphrodite slid her hand up to his neck, responding with a fervor that surprised even her. There was no room for pride, no room for their usual defenses—it was raw, honest, and overwhelming. The heat betweenthem spoke of desire, but the way their lips moved together was something more. It was a connection, a silent confession of emotions too tangled to unravel.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling. She searched his eyes, her heart thundering, and she knew he felt it too—the weight of what had just passed between them, the years of distance finally bridged in one moment of vulnerability.

She pulled him in for another kiss, her fingers threading through his hair, intent on savoring the moment. But before she could deepen it, the floor beneath them shifted with a sudden, smooth motion.

They broke apart, startled, as the house itself seemed to come alive again, its walls humming with an unseen force.

The floor guided them with gentle but insistent nudges toward the front door. “Hey—” Hephaestus muttered, stumbling slightly as he tried to regain his footing.

“Excuse me!” she said, glaring at the ceiling as if the house could see her indignation. “We’re not done here!”

But the house didn’t care. The front door swung open with a creak, a gust of fresh air rushing in to meet them. Before either of them could protest further, the floor gave one last push, and they were shoved out onto the porch.

The door slammed shut behind them with a definitive thud.

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