One month.

A month ago, Alessandro would’ve been home, eating pizza on the couch, arguing over the remote. Now he’s stuck in a barricaded shop, staring at five cans of beans and one energy bar, trying to feed twenty people.

“Beans again? Seriously? Third time this week—and it’s what, Thursday?”

Alessandro didn’t flinch, just tightened his grip on the cans and shot a tired look at Matteo, who had snuck up behind him.

“Yes, Matteo. Beans. That’s all we have. If you don’t like it, come on the next run.”

Matteo winced immediately. “Yeah… no. Beans are great, actually.”

Alessandro exhaled, rubbing his temples, about to walk off when Matteo spoke again.

“Marco and Giulia are back. They were looking for you. Seemed serious.”

Of course it was. It always was.

He found them near the front. Marco stormed up the second he saw him.

“Care to explain why people are sitting around doing nothing while we’re out there risking our lives for scraps?”

“Marco, let’s talk somewhere—” Giulia tried, but he shoved past her.

“No. Everyone should hear this. We’re running out of food, and we’ve got deadweight dragging us down. That old woman won’t last, and your sibling isn’t doing anything either.”

Murmurs spread. Some agreeing.

Alessandro clenched his fists.

“So do something, or we all die—and it’s on you.”

“Enough.”

Silence fell. He scanned the room, panic rising when he couldn’t spot Raeema right away.

“Fine. You want them gone? Then we leave them—the sick, the elderly. But somewhere safe. Then we split.”

The words felt wrong, heavy.

Marco smirked. “Including Raeema?”

Alessandro hesitated—then nodded.

“Yes. Everyone who can’t keep up.”

A sharp movement caught his eye. Matteo stood frozen. And beside him—you.

“Good,” Marco said. “Start packing.”

People drifted off, whispering.

Now it was just the two of them.

Alessandro didn’t meet her eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered. “You would’ve done the same.”