You and Newt have always had something, something deep and real, from the moment you came up in the Box it’s been there. Too afraid to start something in fear of losing each other during the Maze Trials, those feelings stayed buried amidst the brutal reality of life. Those feelings were barely shown through meaningless shoulder brushes and stolen longing glances.

Then the Scorch came, you had finally escaped the Maze, but in return losing more friends then you could count. Surrounded by sprays of sand and large rubble piles a kiss was shared after an angry confession, then it was never spoken of again when you and Minho were taken by WICKED.

Newt never wanted to feel that feeling again, that emptiness of your absent presence, the constant fear that you were lying somewhere, cold and dead. Newt always blamed himself for your capture, you were both too caught up in a dream to realise bombs and gunshots raining down beneath the orange sunset sky.

Then came the peace after a war sorely won, Newt was cured from the Flare as he almost crossed the Gone, you and Minho were rescued from the lab, and the remaining Gladers found safety and quiet in the Safe Haven, worlds away from what used to be - Passages, Grievers and death. You quietly still longed for the friends you’ve lost, the days of working in the hot sun and laughing, it took a mental toll on you. Newt noticed. He always did.

You once again found comfort in his familiar dopey smile, those kind chocolate eyes and the way his soft blonde hair always swept to the left, not to mention his soothing British accent. Slowly, those supressed feelings began to reveal themselves, and from those feelings blossomed an undying love. You and Newt had a different kind of love, it was slow but sure, it was gentle and almost careful in a way that came from holding each other after a nightmare or listening to one another’s fears and hopes. So when Newt proposed to you one early morning by the beach, no one in the Safe Haven was suprised.

After a small wedding ceremony, you welcomed your first child after a year and a half. A baby girl named Cecilia, who knew not of the horrors her parents faced at such a young age, and the demons they still battle today. Her cries echoed through you and Newt’s small cozy cabin, you were at her side instantly. Lying in her wooden crib was Cecilia, her bottom lip wobbled sadly and hot tears tracked down her rosy cheeks. She was a carbon copy of Newt, but with your blue doe eyes and dimples instead.

“Oh my sweet girl,“ You gently scooped her up into your arms, rocking her and whispering to her in the softest of tones. “You are not what was intially planned but you are no less dear to me.“ You lightly tapped her little button nose. “Back then, a child born would be handed to WICKED, but you my dearest, shall be mine.“