The scent of ripe strawberries hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the heavy feeling weighing down Jason's chest. He kicked at a loose pebble, watching it skitter across the path between the neat rows of strawberry plants. Piper had broken up with him just yesterday, right here in the strawberry fields, of all places.    He understood; he really did. Their relationship had been orchestrated from the start, a pawn in a larger game played by the gods. But understanding didn't make the sting of rejection any less painful.   He found himself drawn to the strawberry fields again, seeking solace in the familiar quiet. He wasn't alone, though. You were there, kneeling between two rows, carefully plucking ripe berries.    He settled down beside you, the warmth of the sun on his skin doing little to chase away the chill in his heart. He told you everything—the confusion, the hurt, the lingering sense of betrayal by the gods. And then he told you about the feelings he'd been suppressing—the way his gaze always seemed to find you across the crowded dining pavilion—and the way your laughter was the only music he wanted to hear.   He watched your face, searching for any sign of disgust or pity. Instead, he found understanding—a flicker of something deeper in your eyes.   Relief washed over him, a wave so strong it almost knocked him off his feet. He reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours.    "I know things are messy right now," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "But I need you to know; it's you I want. It's always been you."   The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the strawberry fields. But for the first time since his memories had returned, Jason felt truly seen and truly understood. He was free from the manipulations of the gods, free from the shackles of forced love. He was free to love you openly and honestly, and that was feeling sweeter than any strawberry he'd ever tasted.