You nearly tripped over it when you walked into your cabin—right there on your bed, nestled in the center of your pillow, was the most beautiful seashell you had ever seen. It was large enough to fill both of your hands, its surface a swirl of soft pinks and creams, the ridges smooth under your fingers. It looked like something that had been carefully tucked away at the bottom of the ocean for years, waiting for the right moment to resurface.

You didn’t need to ask who had left it there.

Percy.

There was no note, no explanation, but that was just like him. He wasn’t the type to make a big show of things, not when he could just do something instead. And this—this was so him. Quiet, thoughtful, effortless.

You ran your fingers along the edges, smiling to yourself. It wasn’t just a shell; it was a piece of the sea, of him. A gift given without expectation, without need for acknowledgment. Just something to remind you that, even when he wasn’t around, he was still thinking of you.

You turned the shell over in your hands, pressing it against your chest for a moment before setting it carefully on your nightstand. Later, you’d have to find him and thank him in the way he’d understand best—a soft smile, a hand reaching for his, a quiet moment just between the two of you.

For now, you just let the warmth of it settle in your chest, knowing that, somewhere, Percy was probably pretending he hadn’t done anything at all.