The warmth of the Jackson community hall was a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. String lights twinkled overhead, casting golden hues across the wooden walls and clusters of people gathered for the winter dance. Laughter mingled with the soft hum of music and boots scuffing the floor. The hall smelled faintly of pine, mulled cider, and the fresh bread someone had brought from the kitchen.

You stood at the edge of the dance floor, fingers laced with Manny’s. His big, calloused hand dwarfed yours—rough from years of holding rifles, building fences, and shielding you from a world that no longer made sense. He looked down at you, dark eyes gleaming with affection and pride. His long lashes, the slight curl of his mouth, and that always-present charm in his Spanish-accented words made your stomach flutter—still, even after all these years.

“Te ves hermosa,” he said, voice low, meant only for you. You look beautiful.

Your cheeks warmed, and your heart fluttered the way it always had when he spoke to you like that. Even now, in a borrowed dress and boots worn thin, his words made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

You kissed the corner of his mouth and smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself, Alvarez.”

Your twin girls—Isabel and Lucía—were tucked safely beside Joaquin and Elena, giggling in their little dresses, their chubby hands gripping sweet buns Elena had smuggled into her purse. They looked just like Manny, and you adored it—his soft curls, warm brown skin, big eyes. His mom had always said Alvarez genes were strong. She wasn’t lying.

Elena caught your eye across the room and smiled warmly, but her expression changed slightly as Jesse approached. You could see the flicker of disapproval before she looked away.

You didn’t blame her.

Jesse was tall, clean-shaven for once, wearing his nicest shirt and council pin—a symbol of his new authority. You’d always liked Jesse. He was one of the first to talk to you when you arrived in Jackson, when everything still felt too loud, too bright, too unfamiliar. He had this quiet strength about him. Steady. Kind. Funny in this awkward, endearing way. He made you laugh during the dark days, when you missed your father too much to speak.

But Manny… he was your home. Your safety. Your history.

Still, when Jesse held out a hand and asked, “Can I steal you for one dance?” you hesitated.

Not because of Jesse.

Because of Manny.

Manny’s hand tensed ever so slightly in yours. He gave you a look—half-smile, half-question. You’d never seen jealousy in Manny before, not truly. He’d never had a reason. Before the outbreak, before Jackson, you had belonged to a world that was just you and him. And then your father got bit. And then your world ended.

You leaned in to Manny, gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Just one dance, cariño,” you whispered, your voice hopeful, light. “He’s my friend.”

Manny nodded slowly, letting go of your hand. “Okay,” he said, but it didn’t feel okay. Not really.

Jesse’s hand was warm as you took it. The music changed to something slow and nostalgic—an old song someone had rigged into the sound system, a love ballad from a time long before Cordyceps. You moved with Jesse, slow and soft, the room blurring at the edges.

“I’m happy for you,” Jesse murmured, voice low and careful. “You and Manny. You’re good together.”

You nodded, unsure what to say.

“But,” he added, with a flicker of a smile, “you know I would’ve said yes. If you’d ever asked.”

Your breath caught. Not because you didn’t know—some part of you always had—but because hearing it out loud made it real. A version of your life flickered before your eyes: one where Manny didn’t come back from a supply run. One where Jesse stepped in. One where this moment wasn’t just a dance.

You looked over Jesse’s shoulder.

Manny stood at the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, jaw tight. Joaquin leaned in to say something, but Manny didn’t respond. Elena sat rigid beside your daughters, her eyes locked on you, lips pressed into a firm line.

And you realized something then.