CHAPTER TWO:
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'You have been engaged,' what could that even mean?! How could she be engaged? Aphrodite was meddling with people's lives, betrothing them to people? Aphrodite couldn't be real; Clara's life was not a romantic comedy in which Cupid would come and shoot two protagonists with his arrow and make them fall in love. Actually, it definitely wasn't, it was, however, a romantic novella in which Aphrodite did something similar.

Half an hour had passed with Clara standing motionless on the spot. She stared down at the short note and began to reread it, hoping that, somehow, the next time she read it, she would realise that she had read it wrong and she wasn't engaged to someone. Nope, as she reread it again, it remained the same as it had been the previous 224 times that she read it. 

Clara tried pinching herself, but that didn't work either. Okay, so she had read the note correctly, but it was bound to be the kids next door playing a prank on her right? Continuing with that thought and planning to ignore the letter and the ring, she placed them back inside the envelope and left it on the side in her hall. 

After spending too long in her hallway, Clara moved from her spot by the front door and proceeded with her usual after-work routine, pretending that she had never read the note. She started by making herself a cup of tea, adding milk but no sugar, and headed over to the sofa to put her feet up and relax. Much to the relief of her sore scalp, she let her blonde hair down from the tight high ponytail that it had been in all day.

As was the norm, Clara began to contemplate her life, concluding that, minus a prank by the neighbours' kids, her life was just where she wanted it to be. After about eight years of writing a newspaper as a hobby and a further ten years more seriously, the time came for her to publish her first copy. Two years on, she admitted that 'The Universal Chronicle' was not as established as newspapers such as 'The Times' or 'The Telegraph,' however, it was doing well for its age.

You may be imagining Clara sitting alone, typing for hours to fill her newspaper with content, but that wasn't the case; she rented a building within walking distance of her house and hired a team of people to work as writers, fact-checkers, printers and so on. As the newspaper was still rather small, she didn't have to hire hundreds of people, and, as a result, they were a perfect little community, making any of their interactions more personal than they would be in a larger company.

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Clara was broken out of her thoughts by an enthusiastic knock at her door. Groaning, she pulled herself up, expecting to find little resistance. Instead, she found herself on the floor; she was still cocooned in a fluffy blanket that she had acquired after settling down.

"Ouch," she complained while dragging herself from the floor and rubbing her arm. 

When she reached the door and pulled it open, she was shocked to see a tall, elegant woman sucking on a lollipop; her attire and appearance contrasting with her behaviour.

"Umm, hello? Can I help you?" Clara asked the strange woman on her doorstep. 

"Why yes, I believe you can," glancing at the discarded envelope on the side before continuing to eat her lollipop, the stranger continued, "I believe you got my note?"

"Excuse me? Your note?" Clara was puzzled as she observed the woman in front of her before averting her eyes in the same direction as the woman's. That's when she saw it- the envelope; the woman was talking about the note in the envelope.

No, it couldn't be.

Aphrodite was just a Greek Goddess, a myth; she could not be standing in front of her eating a bloody lollipop.

"Oh, you can't be serious." Clara eyed the woman who claimed to be Aphrodite as she grew more suspicious.

"Oh no, quite serious. Now I'm here to discuss further details regarding your marriage," she began to explain while pushing past a very baffled and irritated Clara. 

"So, would you prefer yellow acacias or white clovers?" With a swift change of subject, Aphrodite began to interrogate Clara, presumably about the wedding. Since when was Aphrodite a wedding planner? 

"What-" irritated, Clara found herself cut off by the Goddess of Love.

"Now now, I just assumed that you didn't like the generic flower such as a rose. If you'd prefer we can-" this time it was Aphrodite's turn to be cut off as Clara gaped at her.

  "Okay, what is going on here? Why are you asking me about flowers? I'm not getting married if that's what you're thinking. How are you acting like entering someone's house uninvited is a normal thing to do?" 

"My dear, you read the letter, did you not?" Aphrodite asked, receiving a curt nod in response.

"Then you know who I am, yes?"

"I do."

"Well, that's all the explanation you need. I am the Goddess of Love; this is what I do."

"How?! How can this be what you do when you shouldn't even be real? You should just be a Greek myth." 

"When I add someone to my list, they cannot be removed unless they find their soulmate and marry them, or, I have to do it for them. Sadly, in your case, I am having to do it for you since you have not even been looking." 

"Your list? What list?" Clara thought her confusion to be justified, after all, surely nobody would be calm if they were in her situation.

"When you were fifteen, you vowed that you would never fall in love. It is my job to make sure that you do."

"Oh, so you've betrothed me to someone, and you expect me to be pleased? Do you want me to thank you?" Clara's displeasure towards the Goddess grew, just wanting to be left alone to relax and drink her now stone-cold brew. 

"Well, you may not be thanking me now, but my dear, you will one day. I have centuries of experience, and I've never had a complaint after completing my job." 

"Well, there's a first time for everything," Clara murmured to herself, unconvinced by Aphrodite's words. 

"Are you ready to meet your future husband?" Aphrodite asked with a little squeal while handing the remains of her lollipop to Clara. She remained blissfully unaware of the death stare that Clara was sending her.

"Am I ready to meet my future husband?! No, I'm not ready to meet my future husband! I don't have a future husband." Clara was growing increasingly irked by Aphrodite and her complete lack of regard and recognition of Clara's firm plan never to marry. 

"Shh shh, you don't want him to hear you, do you? You might hurt his feelings!" Aphrodite exclaimed while flailing her arms, reminding Clara a lot of Lily.

"What do you mean, hear me? How can he hear me?" Aphrodite giggled in response to Clara's question. That was not how she imagined Aphrodite, or any of the Greek Gods and Goddesses, would be. Then again, she never believed that they would exist at all.

"Why, he's here of course!"

"He's here?! What do you mean he's here?!" Alarmed, Clara looked around frantically and knocked over a lit candle in her horrified attempt to find this mystery man. Instead of seeing angry flames as she expected, Clara saw Aphrodite throw her hand out and catch it; fast reaction speeds must have been a perk of being a Goddess.

"Of course he's here. He's here and ready to meet you!"

Oh Lord, what was happening? It must have been a dream. It had to be a dream. Something that ludicrous could only happen in a dream or a drunken or high delusion. That doesn't happen at any other time... apart from in fiction.

"You can come here now, darling!" Aphrodite called out to Clara's future husband, still oblivious to Clara's discomfort, or just ignoring it; both options were equally as plausible. 

Clara was able to deduce that, somehow, the man had managed to hear Aphrodite through the door as she heard the distinct click of her front door opening. At first, she was too busy rolling her eyes, meaning she didn't bother to look at the new member of the room.

Eventually, her face grew pale as the colour drained out of it when she turned to face him.

Adrian Kirkman?!