THE CAMPFIRE RITUAL

THE CAMPFIRE RITUAL
Selena's POV

By the time I start getting ready for tonight, the air around the resort feels… intentional. Like everything is slowing down on purpose so something new can begin.

Cameron had explained it earlier: tomorrow is the company campfire ritual.
Everyone is expected to wear red. Red for courage. Red for growth. Red for endings and beginnings.

We’re supposed to bring something small and something symbolic, to burn. Something from the past we’re ready to let go of before the next phase starts.

I lay my red outfit across the bed and sit there for a moment, staring at it, my thoughts drifting back to yesterday.

Tuesday had been chaos in the best way.
The eco-challenge scavenger hunt kicked things off early in the morning. We were
paired us into teams and scattered numbered balls all across the coast were hidden between rocks, tucked under driftwood, half-buried in sand dunes with a complex map to find them.

Each ball matched a gift number in this huge “treasure case” they’d set up near the beach.

Jayden had paired teams carefully, too carefully, if I’m being honest.

Mia, Isabella and I were sent off together, racing along the shoreline looking for Ball 12 like our lives depended on it. Aamya’s team found Ball 21 and practically screamed when they realized Gift 21 was theirs.

Isabella was laughing so hard she nearly tripped over her own feet.
When Mia and I finally found Ball 12 wedged between two rocks near the waterline, we celebrated like we’d won the Olympics.

Gift 12 turned out to be a ridiculous amount of chocolate, which felt very personal. while Gift 21 was a mini alarm clock, Isabella found ball 05 and it was a brand new J.FOREST watch. We all screamed when she unboxed it. A lot of wonderful gifts were won.

By the end of the challenge, almost everyone had found something. The beach was loud with laughter, sand stuck everywhere, people comparing gifts and teasing each other about who almost gave up. It was messy and joyful and exactly what I didn’t know I needed.

The afternoon was calmer.
We had private spa time—split however we wanted. Mia opted for tanning, claiming she needed to “look expensive.” Isabella and I went straight for the spa. Warm oils, soft music, quiet conversations that didn’t need to be finished. It felt indulgent in a way I’m not used to, like permission to rest.

Later, everyone regrouped for a beach stroll. No schedules. No work talk. Just bare feet in the sand and the sound of waves stretching into the evening. I remember thinking, I could get used to this.

And then there was the tennis.
I didn’t miss my one-on-one session with Jayden. Not even close.

By now, Isabella and Mia had definitely noticed that I kept disappearing after dinner. They didn’t say anything outright, just exchanged looks that said we know.

The session itself was… surprisingly fun. Less intimidating and less embarrassing than I expected.

Now I can actually do a proper forehand swing, elbow steady, wrist loose, follow-through clean. I even learned how to control the bounce before returning the ball instead of panicking and swinging blindly.

Jayden, it turns out, is a very good teacher.
Patient, focused and enncouraging in that quiet way that makes you want to do better without even realizing it.

And somewhere between missed shots and soft laughter, I caught myself thinking things I wasn’t ready to say out loud.

That I look forward to those moments more than I should.
I shake the thought away and stand up, folding my red outfit carefully.

Tonight is about letting go. About burning old fears, old versions of ourselves, old doubts.
Still… as I get ready, I can’t ignore the truth settling gently in my chest.

I don’t hesitate when I find it.
Buried at the back of my suitcase is one of my old oversized tops. Way too big. The kind of shirt I used to hide inside when I was younger, when I was chubby back in middle school. I haven’t worn it in years, but I kept it anyway, folded neatly, I occasionally wear it as a cute nightwear but it's two sizes bigger than me know. I didn't even know I packed it.

I run my fingers over the fabric.
That girl worked hard. She made a deal with herself before high school even began. She promised she would protect her body, her health, her discipline. And she did. Gym two to three times a week. I lost half of my weight before high school, no one knew not even Ethan and since then fitness has been a lifestyle.

Although I have been inconsistent with the gym the past few months.

I don’t ever want to go back there.
So I fold the top once. Then again. And that’s what I bring.

By the time I reach the campfire clearing, the night has already softened. The sky is dim, stars blinking awake, and the fire pit glows like a heartbeat in the center of everything.

Everyone is there. Sitting in one massive circle. No tables, just people, sand, logs, and fire.
Well. Almost everyone.
Jayden isn’t here. Again.

It makes me pause longer than I expect. A small disappointment settles in. I don’t know why a part of me still hopes he’ll show up, just once, like he actually wants to be part of this retreat and not just orbit it. But his path seems separate. Always has been.

The theme tonight feels different. Retreat nights really are something else.

Dinner is simple but intentional. The chefs have already marinated everything. Chicken. Turkey. Beef. Even plant-based options. We’re supposed to roast our own food over the fire.

I grab a skewer and choose turkey.
Grape juice is passed around in clear cups, alongside bowls of grapes, watermelon, melon slices catching firelight on their edges. Salad for balance. Marshmallows waiting patiently on a tray like they know what’s coming.

We’ve already eaten heavy in the afternoon, so this feels perfect. Not too much.

At one point, someone gets a little too ambitious with the heat. A piece of turkey flares up, sparks flying, smoke rising fast enough that people jump back laughing. For a split second, it looks like the fire pit itself might revolt.

Mr. Cameron rushes over, half serious, half amused, trying to save the architecture of the pit while muttering something that sounds suspiciously like a work briefing.

Honestly, I still can’t tell if this retreat is for him or if this is just extended work service with better scenery.

Then comes the real ritual.
One by one, people step forward to burn something they’re ready to let go of.
Fred from Graphics & Designs goes first.

He tosses in an old shoe.
Not just old. Ancient. Full of holes. Bent out of shape. The kind of shoe that clearly survived concerts, rainstorms, terrible decisions, and at least ten years past its expiration date. He admits he’s been squeezing his foot into it since high school. “ People look at me like I have lost it when I wear this shoe so I guess it's time to go buddy.“

“Early enough” someone yells and it immediately cracks everyone up again
.
The fire eats it immediately.
The circle explodes in laughter. Honestly Fred was like the comedy relief here.

Isabella goes next. She burns a small note tied to a strand of hair. She talks about how she used to hate her hair color, how it made her feel too different from her 3 sisters. But now… now it feels like hers. And she’s done wishing it away.

Mia steps forward quietly.
She burns a folded piece of paper.
She doesn’t say much. Just that she’s tired of waiting. Tired of hoping her dad will suddenly become someone he’s never been. She doesn’t want to build her life around absence anymore.
The fire crackles louder after that.

When it’s my turn, I hold up the oversized top.
People blink.
Confusion ripples through the circle.
“Miss Kane?” Mia tilts her head. “There’s no way.”
I laugh. A real one. “Yes it's mine, I was once called Selena the Obese in middle school. And for a while before that.”

Silence. Then disbelief.
Mia squints at my waist. “That’s impossible.”
“No one in high school ever knew,” I say. “I made sure of that. I protected this shape with my life and promised myself a more fit and healthy lifestyle not just to lose the nickname which I obviously didn't like,but for me.“

I toss the top into the fire.
The fabric curls. Shrinks. Disappears.
It feels lighter than I expected.
More people follow. Old fears. Old labels. Old versions.

And then Jayden appears from no where.
“Alright,” he says, clapping his hands once.

“Well, I guess I should participate too.”