In the heavens—that whirling, ungoverned expanse between fate and foolishness—Euphrosyne, goddess of joy, enthusiasm, and highly questionable matchmaking choices, sat upside-down on a cloud.
She spun a moonbeam as if it were a baton and sighed loudly enough to shake the stars.
"Oh, for Pete's sake," she complained. "Twenty-eight years, two deaths, three reincarnations, and she still hasn't kissed him? Where's the fun in restraint? Where's the drama? Where's the swoon?"
Some minor gods attempted not to make eye contact with her. Euphrosyne in a Mood was akin to trying to pretend a raccoon with a harp didn't exist—doable, if you liked the threat of anarchy and rhinestones.
"Right," she said, rising up from where she floated. "Time to interfere."
Meanwhile, Back on Earth.
Charlotte baked. Or attempted to. The dough had revolted.
Elias stood beside her, sleeves rolled up, patiently kneading while she muttered curses in five languages and flour-bombed the general area.
"You're doing well," he said mildly.
"I'm being attacked by a sentient pastry. This is not going well. You're just enjoying the chaos."
He was. But he didn't say it.
The moment hung there—warm, light, a bubble of something unsaid.
Which is, naturally, when it began to snow glitter.
Indoors.
Charlotte froze. "No."
Elias blinked. ".I don't think that's flour."
And then—
POP.
A woman in sequined battle robes and celestial boots that glowed when she walked appeared in their kitchen, one eyebrow raised, wielding a lollipop the size of a sword.
"FINALLY," said Euphrosyne, hands on her hips. "This tension was aging me. And I'm immortal."
Charlotte stared. "You."
"Me!" Euphrosyne beamed. "Your uninvited guardian, thank-you-very-much. Do you have any idea how much effort it requires to sneak a soul by the Fates? Twice? You owe me two cakes and one wildly melodramatic love declaration."
Charlotte stared.
Elias cleared his throat. "Should I.?"
"Shush, tall-dark-and-loyal," Euphrosyne flicked a sparkler in his direction. "You'll have your moment. This is mine."
She faced Charlotte. "You're not some tragic heroine stuck in a time-loop. You're chaos personified, reincarnated through whimsy and sheer narrative obduracy. So perhaps—perhaps—you could cut it out with the act of not wanting to kiss the brooding guy who crosses realities for you and live like you're an adult now?"
Charlotte opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Elias simply stared at the floor and mumbled, "I did cross a few realities."
"Oh my stars," the goddess sighed. "YOU TWO."
And with that, Euphrosyne burst into glitter, reappearing mid-air amidst confetti and banners that said: "JUST KISS ALREADY."
The kitchen was a glittery mess.
The resulting silence was. intimate.
Then Elias reached out—slowly, gently—and pushed a streak of flour off Charlotte's cheek.
She didn't move away.
He spoke, low voice, "You see. I was going to wait. For the right time."
She smiled, eyes sparkling. "I think the goddess just announced war on subtlety."
And so—finally, finally—they kissed. A gentle thing. Real. Warm. A kind of kiss that rewrote lifetimes, if only for an instant.
Somewhere in the clouds, Euphrosyne shrieked with triumph and cracked open a bottle of divine soda.