Since Negan walked out of the cell, no one kept the children away from him anymore. At first there were whispers and watchful looks, but over time the tension faded. The kids gravitated toward him with natural curiosity, and he, to many people’s surprise, could talk to them without that old sharp edge in his voice. Parents stopped stiffening at the sight of him. Even Michonne, before she left, no longer reacted with cold distance. The evil from years ago did not disappear, but it stopped being the present. When the Saviors fell apart like dust, Negan was given something he had never truly had before: time. And apparently he used it differently than anyone would have expected.

That morning the sun over Alexandria was bright, warmth settling on rooftops and wooden fences. Before he even made it to the garden, Judith had already completely worn him out. She had been chasing him in a game of tag, laughing loudly, quick and clever. Negan pretended he could barely stand, dramatically grabbing his knees, panting, muttering under his breath, but his eyes were smiling. In the end he let her win, like always.

Now he stood by the tomato beds near Father Gabriel’s church. The pastor kept an eye on him, though he did it discreetly, as if busy with his own matters, yet always within sight. Negan did not comment. He had grown used to it.

He bent over the plants, pushing his fingers into the soil and methodically pulling out weeds. Then he reached for the watering can and slowly watered the tomatoes climbing the wooden ladders. He lifted leaves, checked stems, stripped away the worm eaten and damaged ones so they would not infect the healthy plants nearby. He did it carefully, without hurry, as if it truly mattered.

The sunlight reflected in the drops of water clinging to the green leaves. Negan wiped sweat from his forehead with his forearm and for a moment stood in silence, listening to the distant voices of people and the laughter of children.