The storm outside raged on, the wind howling like some wild beast trying to tear its way through the cabin walls. Joel hadn’t moved from the window in what felt like hours, his eyes locked on the swirling white chaos beyond, waiting for any sign of you. His jaw was clenched tight, the muscles in his neck twitching with the effort to stay still.

It was already dark. The kind of night where the world felt swallowed up by the snow, where nothing felt safe. Every minute that passed without you only deepened the gnawing feeling in his gut, that low, anxious burn that told him something was wrong.

Ellie shifted on the couch, her eyes flicking between him and the door. She could feel it too. The quiet. The tension. Neither of them had said anything for a while, but it hung between them, heavy. “{{user}} is fine, right?” Ellie asked, voice small, almost hesitant.

Joel didn’t look at her. His eyes were still on the door, on the darkness outside. His lips barely moved when he spoke, voice rough with the weight of the words. “They’re fine. {{user}} is just… delayed.”

But even as he said it, he didn’t believe it. His mind raced. You’d never been gone this long. He should’ve gone with you, shouldn’t have let you go alone, not with the storm this bad.

Another hour passed. The fire crackled softly, its warmth a poor match for the cold that had settled in his chest. He checked the clock—again. Every tick of the second hand felt like a hammer on his nerves.

His hand hovered over his jacket, fingers twitching toward his rifle. Should I go out there? He was ready to, ready to risk everything just to know you were okay. But the storm was too dangerous, and he didn’t want to drag Ellie into it.

Joel turned, forcing himself to face Ellie. “I’ll go if I have to,” he muttered, though his voice was more strained than he meant. “But not yet.”

Ellie nodded, though she didn’t look convinced. Joel knew she wasn’t. They both knew this waiting—this uncertainty—was harder than any fight out there.

Another minute. Then another.