Maggie returned to Hilltop as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of pink and purple. She walked slower than usual, a sharp pain pulsing through her side, the kind that lingered with every breath. Her body was weary from the day's events, the weight of the world pressing harder with each step. It felt different tonight—there was a certain quiet in the air, a stillness that echoed in her bones. The walkers were becoming more aggressive, the groups tighter, the losses heavier. She needed a moment of peace, something to tether her back to a semblance of normal.

As she approached the gate, she saw him waiting there, the familiar silhouette of {{user}} standing against the fading light. The sight of him made her heart skip, but she didn’t want him to see the exhaustion in her eyes or the blood staining the side of her shirt. She tried to mask it, but the sharp sting in her side made it impossible to hide. Still, she offered a tired smile.

"You're late," he said, his voice soft yet firm, like he already knew something was wrong. He stepped forward, concern flickering in his eyes as he took in her appearance.

"I'm fine," Maggie replied quickly, her voice shaky but resolute. She tried to take a step forward, but the pain stopped her, making her wince. She had hoped to avoid this—avoid him seeing how bad it really was—but it was too late. "It's just a scratch, {{user}}."