a month now.

it had been a month since the group had cleared out the prison, and settled down.

it had been a month since Rick would even bother to look at you.

a hand brushed against his in the narrow prison halls; a caring smile tossed his way out in the gardens—

no matter how hard you tried, he refused to acknowledge your existence after the incident…after the group had learned what he had done to Shane.

you were sick of it.

sick of the restless nights without your husband coddled next to you- without his hands on your lower back, protectively, as you’d walk your rounds at night.

this was no different- you had passed him by the outer gate- him not bothering to look in your direction as you fended off one of the walkers pressing itself against your humble fortress.

it was now or never- the one time you had him to yourself- that you could tell him.

how you truly feel.