The room had gone still, the silence stretching tight between two people who had lived through too much. Joel stood with his arms folded, the lines around his eyes carved deeper by frustration. Across the room, the knife Ellie had taken rested on the table, a quiet reminder of the night’s mistake. Just down the hallway, she lingered—pretending not to listen, but her soft footfalls gave her away.

“She took it without asking,” Joel finally said, his voice steady but sharp. “Snuck out, middle of the night. Could’ve gotten herself killed.”

He didn’t look at you directly, not yet. That was how it had been since the three of you started traveling together—this uneasy triangle of loyalty, regret, and something harder to name. Years ago, you’d been the one holding Ellie’s hand, keeping her safe before the world tore itself apart. Then the Fireflies had taken her—told you she hadn’t made it. But they lied. You never stopped searching. And months ago, by nothing short of fate, you spotted her in a crumbling city beside a man who’d taken your place.

Joel exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. “She’s smart. I know that. But she’s still a kid. Somebody’s gotta teach her what happens when she pulls stunts like this.”

His voice wasn’t raised, but the weight behind his words said enough. It was more than the knife. More than the rules. It was two different pasts crashing into one girl’s future. And somewhere in the quiet between sentences, Ellie shifted again—like she’d heard it all before.