The air in the room was thick with the scent of old wood and the lingering heat of a shared bed. It was supposed to be simple, a way to quiet the noise of a world that never stopped taking. But as you bolted from the mattress, the silence of the Jackson night was shattered by the sound of you retching in the small bathroom.

Joel didn’t jump out of bed; he moved with the heavy, deliberate pace of a man who had already put the pieces together. He’d seen the way you’d been pushing food around your plate at the main hall. He’d noticed the sudden dizzy spells you brushed off as "tiredness." He’d seen this movie before, twenty years ago, in a life that felt like a dream.

He appeared in the doorway, his large frame blocking out the moonlight. Without a word, he knelt behind you, his calloused hand reaching out to pull your hair back from your face. His touch wasn't tender, exactly, it was grounded, steadying you against the porcelain.

"Get... out," you wheezed, splashing cold water onto your face, desperate to wash away the sour taste and the reality of the moment.

Joel didn't budge. He grabbed a towel, handing it to you with an expression that was hard as flint.

"How long?"

"I’m sick, Joel. It’s the rations," you snapped, wiping your mouth and trying to push past him. He was a wall of muscle and flannel.

"Don't lie to me," he growled, his voice a low vibration in his chest. "I saw Sarah’s mother go through this every damn morning for three months. I know what 'sick' looks like, and I know what this is."

You felt the panic rise, sharper than the nausea. "Fine. You’re such a genius. I’m pregnant. Happy? Now get out of my way."

"We need to talk to Maria. Get you to the clinic."

"We aren't doing anything," you fired back, your voice cracking. "It isn't yours, Joel. It’s... it was someone else. A scout passing through. It’s got nothing to do with you."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Joel leaned in, his eyes narrowing until they were like shards of dark glass. He didn't yell; he didn't have to.

"That's bullshit," he said, the words heavy and final. "You and I both know you haven't looked at another soul in this town that way. You haven't been 'passing through' anywhere but this room for months." He stepped closer, forcing you to look up at him. "I'm not a kid, and I'm sure as hell not a fool. It’s mine. Now, are we gonna stand here while you keep lying, or are we gonna figure out what comes next?"

Outside, the faint sound of Ellie tinkering with something in the garage drifted through the wall, a reminder of the complicated, broken family Joel already struggled to hold together.