She always walked a few steps behind Ellie. Always watched her from a distance, pretending not to care, pretending the glance she stole across the campfire meant nothing. Pretending that the way Ellie smiled when talking to someone else didn’t gut her.

You’d been in love with her for years. Since before either of you knew what love looked like in a world like this.

Ellie? She didn’t notice. Or maybe she did—and just wasn’t ready to deal with it.

But then came the night. One cold patrol, one half-whispered confession, one almost-kiss.

“You’re always looking out for me,” Ellie had said, her voice quiet, unsure. “I always will,” you replied, without blinking.

And for a second, she looked at you differently. As if she’d finally seen what had always been there.