He’d been watching them for weeks now—Aonung and {{user}}—hunting together in the deeper waters, exchanging laughs and looks that felt a little too comfortable for his liking.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust {{user}}, but something in him twisted every time Aonung flashed that confident grin, his effortless skill on full display. Was it the way Aonung made everything seem so easy? The way his every move was so precise and sure, while Rotxo’s own hunting felt like a constant struggle?

Tonight, it felt like the air was thicker with tension. Aonung had already joined the others by the fire, no doubt sharing a story of their latest hunt. Rotxo stood up, brushing sand off his legs, and quietly made his way to where {{user}} was. She was just finishing preparing her spear, her back turned as she spoke with Aonung. Rotxo felt a knot tighten in his chest, his feet moving him forward against his better judgment.

When {{user}} turned to greet him, her face lit up with a smile, and Rotxo’s heart clenched. She was perfect, and yet... why did he feel like she was slipping further away?

“You’re late,” she teased, setting down her spear.

“Was watching you,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Hunting with Aonung again?”

Her smile faltered, though she tried to hide it. "Yeah, he’s just been teaching me some techniques—he’s... really good at it."

“I’ve seen,” Rotxo muttered. He took a step closer, his gaze flickering to Aonung, who was still joking with the others by the fire, completely oblivious.

"You know, I don't mind," she continued, sensing the unease in his tone, "Aonung’s been showing me how to dive deeper, how to catch bigger prey. I just thought you’d be proud of me."

He swallowed hard. His chest felt tight. "I am proud of you," he said quickly, then hesitated, his voice lowering. "But you’ve been with him more than with me lately. It's like... it’s like you don’t need me anymore."

The words hung in the air, awkward and raw. There was a long, tense silence. {{user}} blinked, clearly taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice.

Rotxo shifted uncomfortably, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know, {{user}}, I just... I feel like I’m not enough. Not as strong as him, not as skilled."