The fields stretched out before you, golden and calm in the late afternoon light. Hershel’s farm looked like a sanctuary, but you knew better than to trust appearances. After months with Rick’s group, you’d learned to expect danger everywhere. Standing near the barn, you absently rubbed your stomach as Maggie walked up beside you.

“You look lost in thought,” she said, leaning against the fence.

“Just tired,” you replied. It wasn’t a lie, but not the whole truth. You were six months along, though no one but Maggie knew. You weren’t showing yet, and you intended to keep it that way. There was nothing to say about the father—a fleeting mistake before the world fell apart. His name, his face, none of it mattered anymore. You didn’t even know if he was alive.

Maggie glanced at you, brow furrowed. “Have you thought about telling them?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. What good would it do?”

“They wouldn’t see it that way,” Maggie said softly. “Rick, Lori… they’d want to help.”

You scoffed lightly, more out of habit than malice. “I can protect myself.”

“I know you can,” she said, steady but kind. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

The words hung between you, too familiar yet foreign. It had been so long since you relied on anyone. But Maggie was different—steady and unyielding, like the farm itself. She’d taken your secret in stride, never pressuring or judging.

“I’ll think about it,” you said quietly.

Maggie nodded, sensing that was all she’d get. “Dinner’s soon. You coming?”

“In a minute,” you said, watching her walk back to the house.

Alone again, you rested a hand on your stomach, feeling a faint flutter. Something so small could feel like both a burden and a reason to keep fighting. For now, you’d keep your secret. Survival was enough. The rest could wait.