The news spread through camp in whispers first. Then laughter. Then that quiet, knowing shift in the way people looked at Percy when Annabeth walked past. You heard it from someone who didn’t realize you were standing behind them. Dating. Official. It felt like someone had pressed a hand flat against your chest and pushed.

You told yourself you were fine. You weren’t. You’d built your days around him once. Around the way he smiled when he saw you. Around the certainty that, no matter how loud camp got, you were the one he would look for first.

After the breakup, you’d said you needed space. You’d meant control. But instead, space had turned into distance. Distance had turned into silence. Silence had turned into you watching from across the pavilion as he laughed at something Annabeth said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your stomach twisted every time she touched his arm. Every time he leaned closer to hear her. It wasn’t normal anymore. The way you thought about it. The way you replayed old conversations in your head and compared them to the way he spoke to her now. The way you stayed up at night imagining what he was telling her that he used to tell you.

You told yourself you just needed closure. That was a lie. You needed him to look at you the same way again. You found him near the canoe lake at dusk, skipping stones across the surface. He looked relaxed. Lighter than he had in weeks. It made something sharp twist under your ribs.

He noticed you approaching and straightened slightly, cautious. You asked if you could talk. Your voice sounded calm. Your hands were shaking. For a second, he hesitated. Then he nodded.