Rick was tired—tired of the deaths, the walkers, and anyone who dared threaten him or his family. After losing his wife, he was practically alone. All he had left was Carl and the few others still standing.

You, on the other hand, were a solitary girl whose family had also been taken by walkers. Alone—just like him. Maybe that was why you two gravitated toward each other so quickly. Maybe that’s why he met with you night after night, always in private, always in secret.

You were younger than him by a few years, and it showed. That fact gnawed at Rick, yet being near you felt right. He wasn't alone—not really. He had you. At night, he had your warmth in his arms. And during the day, there were stolen glances, whispered words, soft touches and fleeting brushes. Small things. Quiet comforts.

That night, he held you close, one arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you gently to his chest. You were practically lying in his arms, the heat of your bodies still lingering under a light sheet from what had just passed between you.

“How was your day?” Rick asked, his voice low but sincere, truly curious about what you’d been up to, hoping you’d been waiting for this moment just as much as he had. “Oh, really?” he chuckled softly, placing a tender kiss on your wrist after your reply.

He gently laid you back on the pillows and began kissing your face—slowly, delicately, almost reverently.

“I missed you,” he whispered, just after brushing a kiss against your shoulder. He lifted his head, met your gaze, and exhaled softly.

Rick was falling for you—slowly, deeply—and he didn’t know if he could stop.