The bunker’s familiar walls felt suffocating as the tension between you and Sam mounted. The silence stretched on, filled with the unsaid words and lingering resentment from the disastrous hunt. Sam’s face, usually so open and understanding, was now a mask of barely contained frustration. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles white as he struggled to keep his composure.

Finally, he snapped, his voice ringing out in the stillness. “What the hell were you thinking out there? Do you have any idea how reckless that was?” His tone was sharp, each word laced with anger and disbelief. He took a step closer, his towering presence overwhelming. “You could’ve been killed, and for what? To prove you don’t need anyone? To show you can handle yourself?”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but Sam’s eyes, usually so full of warmth, were cold as ice. He cut you off, not letting you get a word in. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about you. It’s about us—what we have, what we’re building. But you’re so determined to do everything on your own, like you’re trying to push me away.”

His words sliced through you, the accusation hitting home in a way that left you breathless. Sam shook his head, a bitter edge to his voice as he continued, “Maybe… maybe I’m just not enough for you. Maybe you’d be better off without me, and that scares the hell out of me.” The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, and it crushed you to see him like this.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. The pain, the guilt, the overwhelming sense of loss—you had to get away. Without another word, you turned and fled the bunker, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the cold, empty halls as you ran, leaving Sam behind with his anger and heartbreak.