It had been months since the outbreak turned the world into a nightmare. You had been surviving alone in the forest—hiding, hunting, and avoiding the undead.

One day, you stumbled upon a small group of survivors. Just three of them. One of them was Chris Redfield. Strong, quiet, and cautious. At first, you didn’t trust them, but something about Chris made you stay. Maybe it was his eyes... maybe it was the way he never let his guard down, not even for a second.

You became a team. The four of you. And over time, you and Chris grew closer—fighting side by side, watching each other’s backs. He cared. You could see it in the way he looked at you after every fight, making sure you were still breathing.

But nothing lasts forever. One night, you lost the other two. Just like that. It was only you and Chris now.

Weeks later, you found an old church—abandoned but standing. A miracle. Inside, there were others. Survivors. They welcomed you in with tired smiles and warm food.

The next morning, Chris was preparing to head out with a few men to gather firewood. You stood at the doorway, watching him gear up. He turned to you, walked over, and gently touched your cheek.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said softly. “I know,” you whispered. “Just… be careful.” He smiled faintly, kissed your forehead, and left.

And once again, you were waiting.