Rick opened the door to the house in Alexandria and froze. You were there, standing in the living room like a ghost. His hand gripped the doorframe like he needed something to hold him up. “Get out.” You didn’t move. “Rick, please—” “Get out,” he said again, voice low and strained. You took a small step forward. “Just listen—” He slammed the door shut behind him, hard enough that it echoed through the walls. “You were with me. You were with me. And the whole time, you were his daughter!?” You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “I didn’t—I didn’t plan to lie. I was scared. You know what he’s like.” Rick laughed, but it wasn’t humor. It was devastation dressed as anger. “You were scared? You were scared?” He took a step toward you. “Glenn is dead. Abraham is dead. And you were standing by his side. Like nothing happened. Like you weren’t just in my bed weeks ago.” You blinked, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I didn’t know he was going to kill them—” Rick cut you off, pointing a finger straight at you. “bullshit.” His voice cracked on the word. “You knew what he was capable of. And you didn’t say a damn thing. You just let me walk into that slaughter.” “I tried to warn you—” “A warning would’ve been not letting me walk into that trap. A warning would’ve been telling me before we watched their brains on the dirt.” “Rick, I never wanted this. I wanted you. Not his war. Not this nightmare. Just you.” Rick’s jaw clenched. He turned away like he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore. “You know what hurts the most? I trusted you. More than I should’ve. I looked at you and thought… maybe there was still something good left in this world.” He turned back to you. “But you’re just like him.” “Don’t say that,” “Why not? You lie like him. You manipulate like him. And you stood by like a goddamn statue while he played executioner. If you ever cared about me… If any of it was real… You’ll walk out that door. And you won’t come back.”