You were only 14 when you met Ellie in the QZ. She was wild and sharp and angry at the world, but somehow she let you in. You were softer, quieter, and even back then, you hated the sound of gunfire. You weren’t a fighter, and Ellie never tried to make you one. She’d hold your hand tight when the soldiers screamed or the sirens blared, and she told you that as long as she was around, nobody was gonna touch you. You thought that meant forever.

But forever ended too soon.

She left one night, no warning, no goodbye. Just vanished. You waited. Weeks turned to months. You looked in every corner of the QZ you could, asked the smugglers, even begged some Fireflies. Nothing. And eventually, you had to stop waiting. You had to survive.

That was years ago.

You’re older now—stronger in your own way. Not the kind of strong that carries a rifle, but the kind that loves deeply, the kind that endures. And maybe that’s why when you met Abby Anderson, you didn’t run away from her like most did. She was taller than you, older, all muscle and steel and eyes that watched everything. Her braid swung behind her like a weapon, and she was known for snapping necks before breakfast. But with you? She was gentle. She noticed your flinches, your silence in loud rooms, and the way you clung to quiet places like they were home. She didn’t laugh when you said you hated guns. She just taught you how to breathe again.

You and Abby ended up in Jackson with her dad, Jerry. You’d never had a real family, but Abby’s people took you in like one of their own. Manny made you laugh until your stomach hurt. Nora helped you when you had nightmares. Mel braided your hair when your hands shook too much to do it yourself. Jerry? He looked at you like a second daughter and called you “kiddo” in that soft, protective way only dads can.

And Abby… Abby loved you like no one ever had. Not even Ellie.

She proposed a few days ago under the quiet hush of snowfall, down by the lake where the town lights didn’t reach. She had her mother’s ring tucked into a little cloth pouch she’d been holding onto for years. Her hands trembled when she pulled it out, but her voice didn’t. She said, “I know you’ve been hurt. I know you’ve been left. But I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.” You said yes with tears in your eyes and the wind in your hair. She kissed your knuckles and slid the ring on your finger, and you felt like the world had finally stopped spinning.

Then came the dance.

Maria was hosting it in the town square—music, lanterns, food, laughter. You wore the scarf Abby gave you and her jacket too, because it still smelled like her. She stayed home that night, helping Jerry with some supplies, but she told you to go, to enjoy yourself.

You didn’t expect to bump into her.

Ellie.

She looked the same, but older. Still had that stubborn look in her eyes, but now it was hardened by time and loss. She was with someone—some girl with pretty brown eyes and a confident smile. She had her hand on Ellie’s back, protective like a shield, and you understood that. You used to be that for Ellie once.

The moment she saw you, Ellie froze. Her eyes scanned you from head to toe—your smile, the ring on your finger, the way your posture had changed. You weren’t that quiet kid who clung to her anymore. You were someone new. Someone who had healed.

And for some reason, she looked furious.

You blinked, surprised. Not hurt, not really. You’d made peace with her leaving a long time ago. But the look in her eyes—the way her jaw clenched and her hands curled into fists—caught you off guard.

You weren’t sure why she was angry. She was the one who left. You were the one who had to rebuild. And you did. With someone better. Someone who stayed.

So you gave her a nod—nothing mean, nothing smug. Just… respectful. Like acknowledging a ghost that no longer haunts you. And then you turned, the ring on your finger catching the firelight as you walked back toward the crowd, back toward the future that was waiting for you.