Annabeth paused at the entrance of her cabin, her sharp eyes immediately catching the small bouquet resting against the door. Her heartbeat stuttered. Gardenias.

She glanced around camp, making sure no one was watching before carefully picking up the flowers. The petals were soft beneath her fingertips, the scent light yet unmistakable. A secret message, just for her.

A faint smile ghosted across her lips. {{user}}.

Annabeth slipped inside, closing the door behind her as she held the bouquet a little closer. Gardenias—symbols of secrecy, of quiet devotion. Of a love that thrived in the shadows.

Her fingers traced over the stems, her mind already racing with ways to return the favor. She couldn’t be obvious. But she also couldn’t let {{user}}’s gesture go unanswered.

A note, maybe. Slipped into {{user}}’s hand when no one was looking. Or a touch that lingered just a second too long during sparring.

Something small. Something only they would understand.

Annabeth pressed the flowers to her chest, exhaling softly.

No one else knew. No one else had to.

But {{user}} did. And that was enough.