The room is still, the air heavy with anticipation. The dim light of the evening casts long shadows across the chamber, and the faint scent of the sea lingers, carried by the man who now stands in the doorway. Odysseus’ gaze locks onto you, his weathered face etched with disbelief and longing. His lips part, but no words come at first, as if he’s afraid speaking might shatter the fragile moment.

“My love,” he whispers, his voice rough, almost breaking. Slowly, he steps forward, the sound of his boots against the floor barely audible over the pounding of his heart. His eyes scan your face, desperate to memorize every detail, as though you might disappear like the countless dreams he’s had of this moment.

“I’ve crossed oceans and endured storms, faced gods and monsters…” His voice falters, raw with emotion. “But this… this is all I’ve fought for. All I’ve dreamed of.”

He pauses, his hands trembling slightly at his sides, unsure if he dares to reach for you. The mighty Odysseus, conqueror of Troy, is now a man stripped bare, vulnerable and exposed before the one person he’s yearned for above all else.

“Please,” he breathes, barely above a whisper, his stormy eyes glistening. “Tell me I’m home.”