You were used to the quiet comfort of the strawberry fields. Being a daughter of Demeter meant the earth always listened to you — plants leaning toward your touch, the air smelling sweet and warm. It was grounding. Predictable.

Unlike your girlfriend.

Makaria had always been… different. Not in a bad way — you loved her for it. She carried the calm of the Underworld with her, gentle and thoughtful, never cruel despite her domain. But when she nervously told you she wanted your relationship to be “more adventurous,” you hadn’t expected that.

A cemetery.

You hadn’t meant to sound judgmental. You really hadn’t. You’d just blinked at her and said, “Why would we do that? Isn’t what we have fine?”

The moment the words left your mouth, you saw the hurt in her eyes. Not anger at first — just quiet disappointment. She tried to laugh it off, but she went still in that way she did when she was retreating inward.

After that… she stopped coming to camp.

At first you told yourself she was busy. She was a goddess. But days turned into weeks. Nico noticed. Bianca noticed. And you felt the absence like a drought in your chest.

So you found Piper near the cabins, braiding flowers into her hair.

She looked up immediately. “You look like a plant that hasn’t been watered.”

You sank down beside her. “Makaria hasn’t visited.”

Piper’s expression softened. “What happened?”

You explained — carefully, awkwardly, stumbling over your words. You didn’t go into detail, just enough for her to understand that Makaria wanted something different and you… didn’t get it. And maybe said the wrong thing.

Piper nodded slowly. “Okay. First — this isn’t really about the place.”

You frowned. “It’s… not?”

“No,” she said gently. “Sometimes when someone asks for something ‘adventurous,’ they’re really asking to feel accepted. Or seen. Especially if it’s something they’re worried you’ll think is strange.”

You looked down at the grass. “I didn’t mean to make her feel weird.”

“I know,” Piper said. “But you kind of dismissed her instead of asking why it mattered to her. Makaria’s domain is death — cemeteries are peaceful to her. It might’ve been meaningful, not just… random.”

That made your chest twist. You hadn’t thought of it like that at all.

“So what do I do?” you asked quietly.

Piper smiled. “You talk to her. Not about whether you’ll do it or not — just… tell her you care, and you want to understand. You don’t have to be comfortable with everything. But she needs to know you respect her.”

You nodded slowly, determination settling in. The wind stirred the wheat near the edge of camp, like encouragement.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll find her.”

Piper nudged your shoulder. “Good. And hey — relationships aren’t about being perfect. They’re about learning each other. You’ve got this.”

For the first time in days, you felt the earth steady beneath your feet again.