The night stretched endlessly, the sky above a canvas of stars scattered like distant promises. Henry sat hunched on the log, his hands clasped tightly, as if holding himself together was all he could manage. The fire crackled between them, its embers dancing in the humid air, casting faint, wavering shadows on the ground. Nicole sat beside him, her posture relaxed, her face turned upward toward the heavens. She looked serene, almost otherworldly, as though the chaos of the last few days had never touched her.

But Henry knew better. He knew the weight she carried, the exhaustion etched into her every movement, the quiet resolve in her eyes. She had been his anchor in the aftermath of the wave, the one constant in a world that had been ripped apart. He owed her so much, and yet, all he felt now was the crushing weight of guilt—because alongside that gratitude, something else was growing. Something he had no right to feel.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, the firelight catching the curve of her cheek, the faint sheen of sweat on her temple. His chest tightened, a sharp, unwelcome reminder of the distance he was meant to keep. His family—his wife, his boys—they were out there somewhere, and he was supposed to be searching for them, supposed to be consumed by nothing but the need to find them. And yet, here he was, stuck in this moment, his thoughts tangled around the woman beside him.

It made him sick, the way his mind drifted, the way he couldn’t stop noticing the small things about her—the way her hair caught the light, the steadiness in her breathing, the way she moved with a quiet strength that seemed unshakable. He should have been consumed by the urgency of survival, by the gnawing fear of what he might find—or not find—if he ever reunited with his family. Instead, he found himself tethered to her in a way he couldn’t explain, couldn’t justify.

“You’re awfully silent”

He finally says quietly his eyes flickering ro her for a moment