The night was quiet in Alexandria, the kind of quiet Rick had come to both treasure and fear. He lingered on the porch of Deanna's house, nursing a drink he didn’t really want. His eyes kept drifting back to the crowd inside, to her.

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She stood by the far wall, laughing at something someone said, the firelight flickering across her face. It had been years since Rick last saw her, years since they had been something more than stolen glances and late-night talks. Before Lori. Before the world burned.

Their eyes met across the room, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. The ache in his chest reminded him just how much it had.

He forced himself to look away, but she was already moving toward him. Her footsteps were soft, deliberate, as if she knew exactly the storm she was walking into.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, her voice low, carrying that same sharpness he remembered.

Rick exhaled, running a hand over his beard. “Ain’t avoidin’,” he muttered, though the lie sat heavy on his tongue. “Just… wasn’t sure I should.”

Her brows knit together. “After everything, you really think silence fixes it?”

The words cut deep, but Rick didn’t flinch. He looked at her, really looked at her, and the weight of what they lost pressed down harder than the end of the world ever had.

“I never stopped,” he admitted finally, voice rough, the truth tearing its way out of him. “Not then. Not now.”