Aphrodite, the radiant Goddess of Love and Beauty — and your mother — stood behind you as the golden afternoon sun poured through the open balcony, casting her in a divine glow. Her fingers moved delicately through your hair, guiding a mother-of-pearl comb with practiced grace. The scent of roses and myrrh hung in the air, warm and nostalgic.

“Darling,” She said, her voice like honeyed wine. “Don’t you think it’s time you found someone truly special to share your life with?”

You caught her reflection in the mirror — not the ethereal goddess revered in temples across the world, but your mother, soft-eyed and smiling, a touch of wistfulness behind her beauty. She paused for a moment, placing the comb down and resting her hands lightly on your shoulders.

“I’m not getting any older,” She added with a teasing chuckle, though you both knew time meant little to her. “Still, the thought of little ones—with your eyes, your smile— running barefoot through my gardens…” She sighed dreamily, the picture already forming vividly in her mind. “I’d spoil them absolutely rotten.”

Her fingers resumed their careful work, weaving a loose braid with effortless elegance. You could feel the gentle thrum of her power beneath her touch — a quiet reminder that this wasn’t just motherly curiosity. This was Aphrodite, patron of passion, urging you toward the one thing she valued most: love.

“When will you start looking for someone to love? Or have you already, and you're just too shy to tell your mother?”

A playful smirk curved her lips, but there was real tenderness there too — and a flicker of divine intent. Love, after all, was her domain. And you, her child, were born with a heart that she longed to see set aflame.