The woods are quiet, shadows stretching long under the late afternoon sun. You follow faint tracks, heart pounding. You already know where Shauna went.

She’s kneeling by a fresh grave, hands buried in the dirt like it’s the only thing grounding her. You stop a few steps back. “Shauna,” you say softly.

She whirls, knife in hand, and suddenly you’re pinned against a tree, the blade at your throat.

“Who the hell—”

Recognition flickers in her eyes. The knife wavers.

“It’s me,” you whisper. “I saw you leave. Brought water. Thought you needed space.”

Her grip loosens, but the anger doesn’t fully fade. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity. It’s because I care. I always have.” Your voice shakes, but not from fear. Never from her.

She stares at you, eyes glistening. “I hate when people look at me like I’m broken.”

“I never have. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Her lip trembles. You step closer. “You know…I’ve always wanted to marry you.”

She blinks, caught off guard. “Stop it. What would your sister say?”

“Lottie doesn’t control me.”

Shauna almost smiles. “You’ve been saying that since we were kids. ‘Marry me, Shauna,’ like it’d fix everything.”

“It made you smile,” you say. “But I meant it.”

She looks down at the grave, shivering. You reach for her hand. She doesn’t pull away.

For the first time in days, she looks less haunted. Her fingers curl around yours.

“You’re a damn idiot.”

“Maybe. But I’d marry you tomorrow if you'd let me.”

She laughs, shaky but real. Then her gaze sharpens, searching. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” she whispers. “After what I did to Lottie…I thought I lost you.”