Chapter 85: Look at the flowers

I rolled in my sleep, twisting the sheets into tight knots under me. Always had.

But now, it wasn’t the bed betraying me. It was my own mind.

A flashback. One I didn’t ask for.

“I’ve thought about it…” Lilasaid.

“Thought about what?” theinterviewerasked.

“Breaking his limbs while he sleeps,” shewhispered. “So the only person he’d truly have to rely on… would be me.”

My vision blurred. My chest heaved.

I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping, heart hammering. Hands flew over my arms, my legs—myself. Still here. Still mine.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, almost stumbled on the cold tile.

The memory of Aubrey’s words hit me next, sharp and unrelenting.

I flicked on the bathroom faucet, letting ice-cold water run over my hands.

I splashed my face, slow, deliberate.

And froze.

Blue veins traced themselves across my eyes, fine, pulsing. My head throbbed. My mouth went dry. Everything inside me felt wrong, like sickness that refused to leave.

I rubbed my face again. Blinked.

The veins were gone.

…I can’t do this anymore.

I pulled on whatever clothes were closest, shoved a gun into my back pocket.

The hallway was quiet. Soldiers passed me, eyes down, pretending not to notice. Good.

The infirmary door loomed. I pushed it open.

Lila was already there, restrained, staring. Another body lay wrapped on a bed, but I didn’t care.

I walked over, grabbed the key from the counter. Chains clinked as I unlocked her.

She threw her arms around me, her body charged with fear and desperation.

I rested a hand on her back, stiff, trying to hold myself together. I barely hugged her back.

“I knew you’d come for me. I was so scared…”

I stayed quiet.

“Come on, Lila. We’re going for a drive.”

Her face lit up.

“Just you and me? Just like old times…?”

I nodded, slow.

Her smile widened. I led her out, keeping to shadows, taking routes no one would see us on.

A car waited. Quiet. Empty. Ours.

And for the first time in a long while, I let myself breathe.

The gates swung open as we drove through. My hands stayed tight on the wheel, eyes fixed ahead.

Lila watched me. Of course she did.

Those same curious eyes, the ones that used to follow me everywhere, studying everything.

“Where are we going, sweetie?”

I tried to smile. Failed.

“That’s a secret.”

The tires crunched over the asphalt. The world felt quieter here. Too quiet.

An infected lunged from the treeline. I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t swerve. Kept driving.

Lila’s hand found my thigh. I flinched.

“…I know things have been hard. For both of us.”

A pause.

“I used to think the only way I could show you I loved you… was by protecting you with all I could.”

The words hung between us. My grip on the wheel tightened. The gun in my back pocket pressed against me.

She noticed.

Something coiled in my stomach.

“But I see you don’t need that anymore, do you…?” she whispered, a faint smile forming on her face.

I rested my hand over hers. Slow. Steady. But I didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. Not with the tears starting to form.

“I’m so sorry that I ever made it seem like you needed saving…you don’t…I understand that now.”

The car slowed.

I exhaled.

The clearing was empty, untouched. Safe. No eyes watching, no danger lurking.

Moonlight spilled across the ground, soft and silver, painting the grass in streaks that made it glow like it was alive. Tiny flowers dotted the edges, white and purple, swaying gently in the night breeze. Their scent was faint but sweet, drifting through the air, mixing with the smell of pine and earth.

Above us, the stars stretched endlessly, glittering in clusters so dense it felt like the sky had pressed itself right against the world. Shooting stars cut through the darkness now and then, quick streaks of light that made everything feel impossibly large, impossibly calm.

A small stream curved along one side, its surface reflecting the moon like liquid silver. The water gurgled softly, a soothing counterpoint to the chaos that had filled our lives for so long.

I unbuckled my seatbelt.

“We’re here.”

She unbuckled too, slower, almost hesitant, like she wasn’t sure she believed it.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

I said it as Lila walked in front of me, the wind threading through her dirty blonde hair, lifting it like it used to back when the world still made sense.

Oh, Lila.

My sweet Lila.

She glanced back at me. There was something soft in her eyes. Something almost gentle.

“Yes… it is.”

Then she turned away again.

I drew in a slow breath, trying to gather whatever resolve I had left. It felt thin. Fragile. Like it might tear if I pulled too hard.

I raised the gun.

The click was loud in the quiet.

She heard it. I know she did.

But she didn’t turn around.

My hands shook. I tried to stop it. Tried to lock everything down, to be the man everyone thought I was.

It didn’t work.

Tears slid down my face anyway, blurring the clearing, the stars, her outline.

Silence stretched between us.

“Hey, Adrian…” she said softly.

“When I told you I was pregnant… did you believe me?”

I said nothing.

The quiet answered for me.

She let out a small laugh. Not amused. Just… broken.

“I wouldn’t believe me either,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to leave. I didn’t want to lose the only person keeping me alive.”

Another pause.

“It could be real, you know?” she added. “We could have kids. Grow old together. Die together. People would talk about us. About how we found something normal when everything else fell apart.”

My throat tightened.

“Just look at the flowers, Lila…” I said, my voice cracking.

She went still.

The wind kept moving.

The stars didn’t blink.

And for a moment, the world held its breath with us.

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