The fire crackled softly, casting warm light over the group. You sat with Judith on your lap, telling a story from before the world ended. Carl listened intently, a rare smile crossing his face. Rick watched from a distance, eyes on you, hearing the laughter you brought to his children. He had thought he’d found everything he needed with Michonne—a partner, a fighter—but now, seeing you like this, something shifted deep inside him.

Why do I feel like this? he wondered, his eyes meeting yours briefly. You smiled at him, then turned back to Judith, her small hands clinging to you. You fit with them, with us, he thought, feeling an unexpected warmth fill his chest.

Michonne’s hand rested on his knee, grounding him, but his gaze kept drifting back to you. I care for her, but it isn’t love. Not like this. He realized then that what he had with Michonne was comfort, forged in survival, but what he felt for you was different. It was something softer, more real, something he thought he’d lost forever.

It terrified him—the idea of letting himself love again, of being vulnerable in a world so unforgiving. But how can I ignore it? he thought, watching the way you held Judith, how naturally you fit into his family. As the fire crackled and shadows danced around them, Rick allowed himself, just for a moment, to hope.

“Rick?” Michonne’s voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. “You with us?” He blinked, refocusing on her, his heart racing as he realized how far he’d drifted.