Aphrodite sat cross-legged on the oversized circular sofa in the sun-drenched living room, wrapped in a plush, rose-gold fleece robe. The twin toddlers, Aurora and Lyra, were bundled in fluffy pajamas—Aurora in soft periwinkle stars, Lyra in swirling pink constellations—curled on either side of her lap, their small hands fidgeting with the ruffles of her sleeves. The late morning light sparkled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching on the garlands still draped around the pillars and the ornaments that shimmered from yesterday's grand tree.
Aphrodite tilted her head, smiling down at the girls with that unmatchable maternal glow that only the goddess of love could emanate. "Alright, my little heartbeats," she said, brushing a soft strand of Lyra's hair back. "What do we want to do today?"
