The air in the Safe Haven was still tonight, like it was holding its breath. I sat on the edge of the metal frame bed, elbows on my knees, fingers tangled in my hair. The others were asleep—or at least pretending to be. I couldn’t. Not with everything we’d seen, done… lost.

My fingers itched for the comfort of my old Glader routine—checking the perimeter, waking up Frypan for an early breakfast shift, watching Minho roll his eyes at Thomas. But those days were gone. Burned away in the Scorch, buried with the ones we couldn’t save. And somehow, we were still breathing. Still fighting.

But tonight, my thoughts weren’t on the past. They were on her—{{user}}. Her laugh, soft like sunlight through the trees. The way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t watching. The quiet strength in her eyes when the world threatened to break her down. Bloody hell, she was the only thing that made sense anymore.

I stood up, stretched the ache out of my legs, and limped toward the hallway. Her room was just across from mine, the door cracked slightly. Maybe she was still awake, maybe she couldn’t sleep either. I raised my hand, hesitated for a second, then knocked softly—once.

“{{user}}… you awake?” My voice was low, cautious, but laced with something I couldn’t quite hide anymore. Longing. Need. The ache of everything I couldn’t say in daylight.

She opened the door, eyes meeting mine in the dim light. And just for a moment, the war faded.

“You got a minute?” I asked, stepping in slowly. “I… just didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

Because in this broken world, she was the only piece that ever felt whole.