The days passed endlessly for Psyche. Life could have been blissful – free to roam the godly, bejeweled palace, with all the services she could want (whether they be invisible or not), and then at night, bed with her husband. They would have long, deep conversations, sometimes talking all night. But he would never let her see himself. She never questioned it.
It could have been blissful – but it wasn’t. Psyche was getting lonely. She missed her mother, her father, even her two older sisters. Transparent company isn’t always welcome.
One night she was dwelling on this, and her husband could sense it. He asked her what was on her mind.
“I am becoming lonely in the day, my husband,” she sighed. “I miss my family; they were so good to me, and they probably think I’m dead.”
Eros was stern. “They cannot come here,” he said. But his wife’s sorrows finally got to him, and he gave way under her begging. “Alright,” he sighed reluctantly. “You will see them tomorrow.”