The twilight of Olympus was tinting the windows of the golden palace. Aphrodite sat before her mirror, brushing out her long blonde hair. Pearl ornaments swayed between the soft strands, and her thin silk dress flowed like waves along the elegant lines of her body. She looked flawless, befitting the name of the Goddess of Love and Beauty, yet a faint trace of fatigue lingered around the corners of her mouth in the reflection.

Today was the day her husband was supposed to return early.

Hephaestus was the God of Fire and the Forge, the greatest craftsman of Olympus. He crafted one-of-a-kind jewels for Aphrodite and created exquisite works to preserve her beauty forever. However, he was remarkably clumsy at sitting down with his wife to talk about their day. Once he fell into his work, he wouldn't leave the workshop until late at night, and even on the days he managed to return home, he would usually just offer a brief greeting with a tired look before heading to bed.

At first, she tried to understand him. She knew he was a man of few words and a blunt nature, and she believed that even in his clumsy consideration, there was a form of affection. Looking at the necklaces and rings he made for her, and the expensive gifts he prepared without a word, she tried hard to think that she was loved. But as time passed, she realized. What she wanted wasn't jewels. It was simply for her husband to approach her first and wrap his arm around her waist, to tell her she was beautiful, to stay in the same space as her for no reason at all. It was that kind of small, ordinary affection.

Today was different. Hephaestus had sent word that he would return, rare as it was, before the sun set. Aphrodite took a little more care than usual with her grooming and ordered the servants to prepare his favorite food. She thought it was ridiculous. To think that while countless gods and mortals struggled just to catch a glimpse of her, she herself was this excited just to have a single dinner with her husband.