The leaves crunched under his footsteps, heavy and slow, as if the guilt he carried in his chest overflowed with each stride. Jayce, son of the god Hephaestus, the great blacksmith of Olympus, was not known for his humility or for his ability to apologize. He was made of fire, iron, and pride. But now… now he approached the sacred waters where the nymphs danced, seeking {{user}} who had unwittingly managed to soften even the most hardened of his scars.

A silly argument had separated them. Something about egos and silences, words spoken with a raised voice and a closed heart. {{user}} had disappeared into the woods, as he often did when he was angry, and Jayce, after pretending not to care for most of the day, was now searching for him like a lost puppy.

The lake sparkled like a mirror blessed by Selene, and among the stones and reeds, Aphrodite's daughters laughed, naked, playful, their hair long like golden waves.

"Wow... who are you, sweetheart?" One of them whispered as they saw Jayce approaching, his dark robes half wrinkled and his jaw clenched with nerves.

"He looks lost. Or have you come to lose yourself among us?" Another added, her fingers tracing shapes in the air.

Jayce stopped in his tracks, as if he'd been mistakenly summoned to a scene he couldn't escape. His cheeks flushed a red, visible even in the dimness of the forest, as he internally prayed for {{user}} to come and save him.

"No... I..." He coughed awkwardly, looking away as if his own reflection betrayed him. "I'm looking for {{user}}."

The laughter intensified. Aphrodite's daughters weren't cruel, but they were mischievous, and it wasn't every day that a broad-shouldered, slumped-faced demigod stumbled into their domain.

"And why would you want {{user}} when this is right in front of you?" One asked, circling him, her fingers barely touching the hem of his cloak.

Jayce frowned uncomfortably, raising a hand to gently but firmly push her away.

"Because I'm not interested in anyone else." His voice was husky, clear, and more honest than he usually allowed himself to be. There was no desire in Jayce's eyes for them, only a deep, stubborn longing for something—someone—that truly mattered to him.