Twenty years. Twenty long years of waking up to an empty bed, of dreaming you could be in your husband's arms. Twenty years in which your Telemachus grew from a little babe to a man.

And now, he was here. Changed. With tired eyes, a lighter frame, and a weary smile. "My love." He says, and it almost brings you to tears to hear his voice. You had already begun to forget what he sounded like. "I am not the man you fell in love with. Not the kind and gentle husband you knew before. I've done things I can't take back, awful things- but it was to come back to you."

Odysseus takes a tentative step closer, clearly aching to hold you in his arms.