The farmhouse had gone quiet hours ago.
Aside from those who had shifts, the rest went to bed.
Outside, the steady hum of Georgia crickets filled the night—a soft, endless rhythm that slipped through the open window and settled into the room.
The air was noticeably cooler now, carrying the scent of earth and grass instead of dust and rot, as if the world had never ended.
Inside, the world felt… still.
Maggie lay against me.
A fine sheen of sweat could be seen on her skin, her head resting on my chest, feeling the beats of my heart, one arm draped across my side.
The sheets were warm, tangled around us.
Her breathing was slightly hurried, still recovering from our 'session.'
She shifted slightly, fingers brushing absently against my ribs.
"You did good today," she said softly.
Her voice was quieter than usual—closer, more gentle. "What you did for the kids."
I didn't answer right away, just let the moment sit.
"They haven't been like that in a while," she continued, almost like she was thinking out loud.
"The kids… they were laughing. Like, really laughing."
A small pause.
"I don't think I've heard that since… since everything started."
Two months.
That was all it had been.
It felt longer; felt like a different lifetime.
I stared up at the ceiling, one hand resting lightly against her back, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing.
"Yeah," I said quietly, looking at her.
I let out a slow breath; the words came easier than they should have.
"World's already taken enough from them. They didn't ask for any of this. Didn't choose it. Didn't have a say in the matter."
Maggie stayed quiet, listening.
I shifted slightly, my hand moving up to rest against her shoulder.
"If we can give them even a piece of what they're supposed to have…" I paused, searching for the right words—not the clean ones, the real ones. "…Something normal. Even if it's small… then we gladly do it."
I looked her in the eyes, my eyes softening a tad. "They're the future," I added quietly.
"Only one we've got."
The room fell still again after that.
Maggie didn't respond right away; she just shifted closer, pressing into me, her head settling back against my chest like she'd found exactly where she wanted to be.
Her hand slid over mine, fingers threading together without hesitation.
Simple.
Natural.
Real.
And for a moment—the world outside didn't exist.
No walkers, no empty cities, nothing.
Just warmth, just breath, just this.
The contrast hit harder because of that.
A few hours ago, I'd been moving through steel corridors that smelled like rust and decay, stepping over bodies that didn't even know they were dead anymore.
Every sound measured, every movement calculated—cold, to stay ahead of the curve, to raise the chance of survival of the community I've built.
Now—warm sheets, soft breathing, and a woman who trusted me enough to fall asleep in my arms.
I felt it then.
The weight of it.
Now more than ever, more suffocating than when I was at the shipyard.
The secrets.
My secrets.
The things I didn't say.
The truth of what I am and where I came from.
It sat there in my mind like a suffocating, constant weight that I could never drop.
Maggie shifted again, snapping me from my thoughts, her grip on my hand tightening slightly as sleep finally started to take her.
And somehow… the sight made it a little bit easier.
I exhaled slowly, letting some of that weight bleed out with it.
Because whatever else I was—here? With her? I could just be a man trying to keep something alive.
I lifted my free hand, rubbing the back of my neck—a tired habit that never really went away.
My eyes drifted back to the ceiling.
The wood above us was worn, familiar now, solid.
My thoughts moved forward whether I wanted them to or not.
Inman Yard.
The farm.
Winter.
How long this fragile balance would last before something broke again?
Plans layered over plans.
Routes.
Contingencies.
What comes next.
The future I knew was already changing because of my interference.
Now everything is uncertain—and that was a scary thought that never seems to quite leave my head.
I stared up into the dim light, listening to the crickets outside and the quiet breathing against my chest.
And for the first time since I got here, I just let myself just sit here.
Not solving anything.
Not moving anywhere.
Not doing anything.
Just… thinking about the future.
Our future.
(To be continued...)