The cabin was quiet, save for the muffled voices of the others murmuring inside, their laughter and arguments blending into the ever-present hum of the wilderness. Travis stood just outside, leaning against one of the wooden beams. He had his arms crossed, his gaze distant as he stared out at the darkened trees.

When he noticed you approaching, his expression shifted—guarded but not cold, like he wasn’t sure what to expect. You hadn’t talked much since the crash, not really, not like you used to. The weight of everything—the forest, the plane, the loss—had pushed a wedge between you that neither of you seemed to know how to bridge.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, hesitant. He straightened up, running a hand through his hair. “Didn’t think you’d be out here.” A pause. “Figured you’d be inside with the others.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and uneasy. Finally, he sighed, looking down at the ground. “I know things have been… weird. Between us. I just—” He broke off, shaking his head. When he looked back up, his eyes were searching yours. “I don’t know how to fix it. But I’m tired of feeling like we’re strangers.”