Daryl’s boots crunched against the frozen ground as he made his way through the woods. The early morning air bit at his skin, but he didn’t mind. It was a welcome distraction from the ache in his chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this—this quiet longing—but it seemed to grow each day.

She was always there in his thoughts, her laughter lingering like a soft melody. The girl he never thought he’d care for, yet found himself thinking about. She wasn’t like the others—never demanding, never pushing for more than he could give. She understood his silence, the armor he wore.

But even in this broken world, he couldn’t ignore the pull between them. He wasn’t the type to share his feelings, but somehow, she made him feel like he didn’t have to hide everything. She made him want to try.

There had been moments when he thought about saying something, but in a world like this, words felt like burdens. Actions spoke louder, and Daryl knew how to speak with his hands, his presence, his quiet understanding.

He stopped, hearing the familiar crackle of twigs ahead. His crossbow was ready, but he relaxed when he saw her. She stood in the soft light of morning, her gaze meeting his. She smiled slightly, the kind that made his heart skip.

“You’re up early,” Daryl said, his voice rough.

She shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d help with the traps.”

Without a word, they worked together, moving in rhythm. The world had taken so much from them, but it had also given them each other. There was comfort in that. Even if nothing more came from it, she was his in the quietest way possible.

And sometimes, that was enough.