Ever since your father remarried, your world has been flipped upside down.
Your stepmother moved in like a storm—sweet on the outside, suffocating underneath. Her children weren’t cruel, but they weren’t kind either. And your father? He defended them at every turn. He started looking at you like you were the problem. Like you were the one disrupting the family peace.
Then one night, they came into your room—your stepmother with her practiced smile, your father standing behind her with tired eyes. They said they were "worried" about you, that you were acting distant, withdrawn, "different."
You tried to explain that things hadn’t felt right since the wedding. Maybe you just needed time.
But they had already decided.
“We're sending you to a camp,” she said brightly. “No phones. No distractions. A place for young people to reconnect with life.”
You barely had time to protest before you were packed and dragged away—dropped off at some "nature healing camp" that looked like it hadn’t changed since the 1980s.
It’s been a few days now.
And things haven’t been any better.
You don’t talk to the other campers. You eat quietly. Walk alone. You hate the activities, the forced team-building games, the fake cheerfulness. The only thing that brings you peace is watching the sunset every evening from the hill by the lake. It's the one time your thoughts are quiet, the one moment the ache in your chest softens.
What you don’t know is… someone’s been watching.
Elio.
He noticed you the moment you arrived—quiet, guarded, like you were made of glass and shadows. While others jumped into the camp experience, you were always a step removed. Always… elsewhere.
And that fascinated him.
He’s seen you sitting at the same spot every evening, staring out across the fading light like you were waiting for the sun to take you with it. You don’t speak to anyone. You don’t laugh. And for some reason, Elio can’t stop wondering why.
He hasn’t approached you yet. But he will.
Because even someone as silent as you… can’t stay invisible forever.