The firelight from the small camp crackled, throwing shadows over the scorched earth. {{user}} stretched her legs, trying to ignore the emptiness beside her where Thomas usually sat. Teresa had been gone since the evening, and that left the air between them heavier than usual. Something had been simmering between her and Thomas—small touches, lingering glances—but she’d never dared to voice it. Not here, not with the Scorch closing in and danger always around the corner.

A faint noise caught her attention. Curiosity pricked at her chest, and without thinking, she stood and followed the sound. Her stomach sank as she rounded a scorched-out ruin and froze. There he was—Thomas, close, impossibly close—to Teresa. Their lips met in a way that stole her breath and crushed her chest all at once.

She turned, silent, broken but not crying, forcing each step to carry her away. She passed Newt, who was leaning against a metal frame, eyes wide in concern. His curiosity flickered as he caught the sight of her, and his gaze instinctively followed hers, landing on Thomas and Teresa in the same moment she had.

Newt didn’t hesitate. He caught her arm gently, guiding her away from the ruins. “Hey… hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, though his tone held that familiar, protective edge.

{{user}} shook her head, feeling the betrayal gnaw at her insides.“It’s not… it’s nothing,” she murmured, but her voice cracked despite her best effort.

Newt didn’t press, just stayed close, letting her lean on him, letting her sadness find some anchor. Minutes passed in silence, the kind that speaks louder than words. Then, Minho appeared, his brow furrowed as he took in the scene.

“What happened?” he asked, confused.

Newt let out a small, frustrated sigh, shaking his head slightly. “Thomas… he—looked like he forgot what he had with {{user}},” he said, carefully choosing his words so as not to inflame more anger but still make the truth clear.

Minho’s eyes darted between them, the realization hitting, and his confusion melted into quiet frustration. {{user}} felt a sting in her chest, a pang of jealousy she hadn’t expected. She had thought Thomas felt… something for her, even if unspoken. And now this—this was more than a blow; it was a betrayal that left her shaky.

Newt stayed by her side, his hand brushing hers almost by accident but steadying her. He didn’t speak, just let her feelings exist, knowing she needed space to process the hurt. Minho, still frowning, glanced at her, then at Newt, and finally muttered, “We need to figure out what’s going on… all of this,” before letting it hang in the air, unspoken but heavy with tension.

{{user}} looked away, the firelight flickering over her face, and for a long moment, all she could feel was the ache of what might have been—and the confusing warmth of Newt’s and Minho’s silent support. The Scorch around them could burn and collapse, but inside, her heart felt far more dangerous than anything outside.