The corridor ahead felt like something out of a nightmare.
Bodies stood scattered.
Still.
Silent.
Too silent.
Their breathing—
Broken.
Uneven.
Almost mechanical.
Waiting.
The husband raised his phone.
The beam of light cut through the darkness.
One of the infected reacted instantly.
Its head snapped toward the light—
Then froze.
Confused.
It stepped back.
Slowly.
"It's working…" someone whispered.
But no one relaxed.
Because one mistake—
Would end everything.
"Move," he said quietly.
They stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
Behind him—
She followed.
But this time—
Not behind.
Beside him.
His eyes flickered toward her.
Surprised.
"You don't have to—"
"I do," she said softly.
No hesitation.
No distance.
For the first time in two years—
They stood together.
Side by side.
The light guided them.
Controlled the danger.
Her hand brushed against his.
Accidentally.
Both of them felt it.
But neither pulled away.
Instead—
She held it.
His grip tightened instinctively.
"Don't be scared," he said, eyes still forward.
She shook her head slightly.
"I am…" she admitted quietly.
"…but not of them."
That made him glance at her.
"I'm scared of losing you," she whispered.
The words hit harder than anything around them.
For a moment—
Even the danger faded.
"Then don't let go," he said.
"I won't."
And this time—
She meant it.