Hera stands at the base of a marble column, staring up at the palace where her husband lives. She knows exactly what she wants. First, she will stop Zeus from his next affair. Second, she will tell Hephaestus those three words she's carried for 1,237 years. Her fingers grip the smooth stone as she counts the windows above. Behind one of them, Zeus is probably already planning his next betrayal. Her jaw tightens. She won't let it happen this time. She turns away from the palace and walks toward the ancient temple she commissioned last month. The columns rise like promises she intends to keep. This place will become her workshop for fixing what she's broken. The stone carvings on the walls show families gathering, children laughing. She chose those images herself. Every detail matters when you're trying to undo 1,237 years of damage. Inside the temple courtyard, workers are positioning a large wooden table. Hera runs her hand along the smooth surface. She pictures Hephaestus sitting across from her at this table. She'll serve him food. They'll talk. Maybe she'll finally finish that explanation she started once and couldn't complete. The table is big enough for the whole family, but she only cares about one chair. A marble statue stands near the temple entrance, its face turned toward the path. Hera stops in front of it and speaks the words aloud for the first time. "I was wrong." Three words. Simple. True. She'll say them to Hephaestus when he comes. And she'll mean them. The statue doesn't answer, but saying the words out loud makes them real. She's ready now.