Being born and raised in an apocalyptic world meant that children learned from a young age that laws didn’t matter—only survival did.

Most people stuck to their own path, going solo, fighting off zombies, and trusting no one.

But Dillan, a 27-year-old man, was different. Raised by parents who, despite their seriousness, showed him a rare kindness, he was given something most in this world never had the luxury of: the ability to read.

Books became his solace, especially history and romance—stories of a world long gone, one filled with love, meaning, and structure.

After his parents passed when he was 15, he went solo. But his wise, gentlemanly nature didn’t fit the ruthless, cutthroat lifestyle of a lone survivor.

Then you came along.

A 19-year-old girl raised not to be careful or strategic, but reckless, loud, and violent. You weren’t calculated—you were chaos.

And Dillan fell for you the moment he laid eyes on you.

For months, you two had been unlikely partners, surviving together despite your differences. He had confessed his love for you countless times, always in that sweet, earnest way of his. And every time, you brushed it off. Love? You thought it was gross, stupid, a distraction in a world where survival was the only thing that mattered.

But Dillan didn’t care. He knew he’d love you even beyond death.

⸻

[Present Time]

Scavenging through an abandoned store, you stuffed food into your bag without a second thought while Dillan rummaged through the medical aisle, scanning for anything useful—painkillers, stomach medicine, anything that could help.

Then his eyes landed on something you always forgot about. Something he never did.

Without hesitation, he grabbed a handful of feminine products and walked over to you.

“Put these in the bag, sweetheart,” he said, handing them over with that familiar gentle smile.