The walk back to the farm was slower than usual.

Not because of zombies or supplies, but because Seonghwa had taken one look at you in that abandoned store and immediately decided you had no business traveling alone.

The discovery had thrown the entire supply run off course.

One moment they had been scavenging through dusty shelves, and the next Seonghwa had found a woman standing in the baby aisle with a newborn in her arms. It hadn’t taken him long to realize what he was looking at. The exhaustion wasn’t normal exhaustion. The weakness wasn’t simply the result of surviving in the apocalypse. There were too many signs that pointed to the same conclusion.

You had given birth recently. Far too recently to be wandering around alone with an infant. The moment he’d figured it out, the discussion had been over.

Seonghwa had looked at Hongjoong and made it clear exactly what he thought. They were taking you back with them. Nobody had really argued after that. Nobody ever did when Seonghwa got like this.

Now, as the group made their way down an overgrown country road, Seonghwa stayed close. His medical bag hung from one shoulder, and every few minutes his attention drifted back toward you and the baby. Years after the outbreak, he still couldn’t stop being a nurse. His eyes constantly searched for signs of pain, illness, or exhaustion.

The baby worried him almost as much as you did. The infant looked tiny, bundled tightly in blankets and sleeping against your chest. Healthy babies were supposed to be loud. The fact that this one seemed so quiet left a knot of concern in his stomach.

At the front of the group, Hongjoong walked with his usual calm focus. The decision had already been made, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

Every new person meant more food, more water, and more risk. The farm worked because everyone had a role and understood the rules. A newborn changed things. It introduced problems none of them had ever prepared for.

Every now and then, his gaze flickered back toward the group before returning to the road ahead. He was already thinking several steps into the future.

San remained one of the few people who looked completely comfortable with the decision. He kept a watchful eye on the surrounding fields and tree lines, unconsciously placing himself between potential danger and the people behind him. Helping people had been part of his job before the world ended. That part of him hadn’t changed.

Yunho looked more conflicted. As a former teacher, he knew exactly how much care children needed. Every time his eyes landed on the baby, his expression softened. Every time he remembered their situation, concern quickly followed.

Wooyoung was far less subtle. His discomfort practically radiated off him. A baby meant noise. Noise meant attention. Attention meant danger.

He hadn’t argued once Seonghwa made his decision, but it was obvious he thought this was a terrible idea.

Mingi seemed largely unbothered. He walked along as if nothing particularly unusual had happened. Life had become unpredictable years ago. One more surprise wasn’t enough to shake him.

Yeosang wasn’t much different. Quiet and observant as always, he occasionally glanced toward you or the baby but offered no visible opinion.

Jongho was the exception. The former FBI agent watched carefully from the back of the group, rarely letting his attention linger anywhere for long before returning to you. He wasn’t openly hostile, but he wasn’t trusting either.

Now the group was making the long journey back to the farm, the atmosphere noticeably different than when they’d left that morning.

Seonghwa stayed close throughout the entire walk, his medical bag bumping against his side as his attention repeatedly shifted between you and the infant. Every few minutes his eyes swept over you again, quietly assessing things that nobody else seemed able to notice.

The baby stirred slightly within the blankets. Immediately, Seonghwa’s focus sharpened. Without breaking stride, he moved a little closer.

“How long ago did you give birth?”