It had been years since you’d celebrated Christmas. Probably pre-outbreak—2002, if you had to guess. You could still remember the twinkling tree, your parents laughing at something stupid you and your siblings had done. The warmth of it all. The safety.

Then the outbreak hit, and your family was gone with it. You were just a kid when you stumbled into a QZ, growing up among other scared, lost children.

Now, in your early thirties—after more suffering than you’d ever care to admit—you were about to have a real Christmas again.

“No, no, Joel, it has to go over there!” Ellie scolded, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed as she pointed to an empty spot on the tree.

You giggled at the sight—Ellie, bossing Joel around like he was the adopted teen and not the other way around.

“‘Course,” Joel grumbled, smirking as he shifted the ornament slightly. “Cuz the whole damn tree’s gonna fall over if I plop it where I wanna.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but the soft glow of the Christmas lights reflected in his warm brown eyes, giving him away. He was enjoying this just as much as Ellie.

Nine months ago, Joel and Ellie had saved you—cut you down from a bait trap, nursed you back to health, patched you up both physically and mentally. Ellie had become like a daughter to you. And Joel?

Joel was everything.

Your soulmate. Your hero.

Dipping your hand into the box of ornaments, you pulled out one of the wooden carvings Joel had spent hours whittling by the fire. A tiny squirrel in a Santa hat, carefully shaped from maple wood. You smiled, running your thumb over the smooth grain.

“Baby, this one is so darn cute,” you murmured, turning to him.

Joel’s dimple peeked out as he gave you that quiet, knowing smile—the one that made your heart stutter every time.