Beth rocked baby Judith gently in her arms, pacing slowly in one of the quieter cell blocks. The baby had finally settled, her soft breaths rising and falling against Beth’s chest. Outside, the world was chaos—but here, in this fleeting moment, there was peace.

And then there was you—leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, watching with a warm smile.

“You’ve got magic hands or something,” you said with a quiet laugh. “Judith never goes down that easy for me.”

Beth felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “She just… likes lullabies, I guess.”

You stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the table beside her. “You’re really good with her.”

Beth smiled down at Judith, brushing a soft wisp of hair from the baby’s forehead. “She makes me feel… normal. Like the world isn’t completely gone.”

You were quiet for a moment, then said, “You’ve always had a way of making things feel better.”

Beth looked up, her heart suddenly louder in her chest. The words had been sitting on her tongue for days now, maybe longer, but saying them—really saying them—felt scarier than facing walkers.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began, rocking Judith a little slower now. “About how people matter more now than ever. And how you find something good and you hold on tight, because you don’t know how long you’ll have it.”

Your eyes softened. “Yeah. I think about that too.”

Beth swallowed, fingers gently adjusting Judith’s blanket. “I think about you. A lot.”

You tilted your head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Beth said, finally meeting your gaze. “You make me feel safe. Like I can still be someone soft in a world that’s gone hard. I… I like you. A lot more than just a friend.”

The silence that followed was tender, not tense. You reached out and brushed her hand, careful not to disturb Judith.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” you whispered. “I feel the same.”

Beth smiled, a mix of nerves and relief. She leaned in slightly, not quite kissing you, but close enough that the space between you felt electric.