Years had passed, yet the echo of those moments still lived in your chest. The room was quiet, but the memories stormed through your mind as if they had never left you. You sat on the chair, your hand trembling slightly as you thought of Glenn, of Daryl, of everything that happened on that cursed day.

Maggie stood in front of you, her gaze steady, calm, as if she hadn’t changed since that day. “I know you blame him,” she said, her voice quiet and low, yet direct. “I… never blamed him for anything, {{user}}.” Her words were simple, but they carried the weight of pain and reason all at once.

You felt the anger, the blame twisting in your chest for years. How could she stay calm after Daryl punched Negan and Glenn died? Your mind couldn’t comprehend the contradiction between the strength in her heart and the wound inside yours.

“Why…?” you muttered, your voice almost hoarse, your eyes locked on her face, searching for a reason, any explanation. “How can things move on as if nothing happened?”

Maggie gave a sad smile, her eyes shining with strength and calm. “Anger won’t bring Glenn back… and blame won’t change what happened.” She said it firmly, without denying the bitterness in your words, as if she acknowledged the tragedy but knew the limits of what could be changed.

The anger and bitterness that had built inside you for years surged again. “You say that… but you’re the same person who went out with Daryl behind Rick’s back to try to kill Negan…” you muttered, your voice thick with blame, hatred, and the shock that had never left you.

“You’re right… I was angry back then. I was broken.” She lifted her shoulders slightly, ending the argument before it could start. “But that day is over. Rick is gone. People died. The world changed.” She looked at you steadily. “The anger you’re holding onto… it’s the only thing still living in the past. And I don’t want to live there anymore.”