21. Farewell

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"𝔸 𝕞𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣'𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕪 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞." — Anonymous

Chapter 21: Farewell

««•••»»

Two Days Later

New York City
House of Sally Jackson
12 Hours Before Voyage Departure

It was harder with them in front of her.

So much so that it almost tempted her to stay, but she knew that there was no going back. Her decision was made, though she had to convince herself on multiple occasions that it was for the better.

That still didn't make it any easier.

They were just so young— six years old; such a tender age for them having to worry about if they would ever see  her again. They were too young for trauma— too young to completely understand, no matter how much they wanted to.

She never wanted to leave them but her options were limited. Her hands were tied. It didn't matter how much she wanted to be selfish, because she simply didn't have that privilege. Annabeth had always remembered what her mother told Percy after they returned from Mount Othrys— only thirteen years old at the time. They were at a party on Olympus, celebrating her rescue and the saving of Artemis from Atlas's burden. Athena found the young boy in the crowd and told him that too much loyalty was a curse. She told him that to save a friend, he would sacrifice the world.

She could never figure out how that could be a bad thing, but now as she knelt before her children, tears in her eyes and her throat choked up, complete understanding finally crashed down on her. It wasn't so much loyalty as it was selfishness. Because it was true— to stay with her children, she would definitely sacrifice the world —without even giving a second thought.

But then there was the rational side of her that she was beginning to hate so much. What if everyone was to think like her...?Doing what made them happy without any regard or concern for the fate of the world and the way it is. It would haunt her forever if something were to happen that could've been prevented had she been there.

She had them sit on the couch in the living room, their little legs stagnant as they hung over the chair's edge, missing their usual explosive energy. They knew something was wrong. It wasn't often they would see their mother with her head in her hands, her beautiful golden-blonde hair fixed in a rushed messy bun, letting out small sniffles ever so often as she sat on her heels, shoulders slumped.

She just looked so... helpless.

They may have been children but they knew it was hard for her to raise them without their father by her side, no matter how much she tried to put on a brave face.

Long ago, she'd told them that their father was an amazing man; that he never left on purpose, but he had to go away for a while, and though she never specified where, she always said that they would see him one day, but even with her reassurance, there was still something missing.

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