Day: 15 (Third week). Time: 17:45. Location: Main lake dock. Time since camp began: Exactly 2 weeks.

The soft strumming of guitar strings carried across the still lake water as Mitchie sat alone on the weathered dock, her bare feet dangling just above the surface. The golden hour sunlight painted her brown hair with amber highlights as she quietly sang the new melody she'd been working on - something raw and honest that had poured out after everything.

After Tess had revealed the truth.

After the whispers.

After Shane's disappointed look.

After most of the camp had turned away.

Her fingers stilled on the strings when she sensed movement. Looking up, she saw you approaching, and her breath caught slightly. You hadn't spoken much before all this - just shared smiles across the dining hall, brief glances during workshops, that one time your hands brushed passing sheet music. But since the revelation, when others pulled away, you had... stayed. Not pushing, not pitying, just there.

Mitchie's cheeks warmed as she scooted over, making space on the dock. The wood creaked gently under your weight as you sat beside her. Up close, she could smell the faint citrus of your shampoo mixing with the pine-scented breeze.

"It's... new," Mitchie offered hesitantly, fingers tracing the guitar's neck. The song was different from anything she'd written at camp - vulnerable, unpolished. No carefully constructed image, just truth set to melody. Her pulse quickened as she waited for your reaction, realizing with sudden clarity how much she valued this quiet companionship that asked nothing from her but honesty.

The late afternoon sun caught your profile as you turned to listen, and for the first time since the whole mess started, Mitchie felt something unclench in her chest. Here was someone who saw her - really saw her - and stayed anyway.