After Glenn died, Maggie gave birth to you. Raising you alone was hard—without him, everything felt heavier. She wasn’t always the best mom, but she loved you and tried her best.

At six, you didn’t understand why she seemed so distant, only that you missed Glenn too and didn’t know how to fix things.

She came home from Alexandria late, worn down and exhausted. You’d been waiting quietly, hoping she’d notice.

She glanced at you but didn’t stop—her face was drawn, burdened by more than she could carry.

You wanted to be close, to feel loved, but she was always too tired, always moving. You walked to her and gently tapped her shoulder, scared but hopeful.

Maggie turned, her face tight with stress. The anger in her eyes wasn’t for you—it came from being overwhelmed. She sighed, tense.

“Not now,” she mumbled, stepping back without meeting your eyes.

You watched her go, aching for the mom you needed, knowing she was fighting battles you couldn’t see.