Like the day before, Lina woke up with a soft sigh, nervous but calmer than usual.
She looked around, like a child searching for her mother.
Wild, as always, had already left the shelter—no doubt out gathering supplies or looking for anything useful.
After a few moments, she stretched and made her way to the second floor.
> The iron shelter had once been an old lab, no bigger than two rooms spread across two floors.
The upper floor was barely half a room.
Downstairs, there was a bed, a desk filled with old books, and a small corner where Wild slept.
A few supplies were stacked in another corner.
Back to Lina—
She stood near the broken window on the upper floor, gazing at the destroyed city, her soft blue eyes reflecting a strange calm.
The city was overrun by nature.
Grass and trees had burst through concrete and glass.
Snow painted the ruins in pale white.
The wind blew sharp and cold, carrying a foul smell, as if the earth itself had become a corpse.
And down below, the half-dead wandered between what was once streets—
Even though they moved more at night, a few always lingered in daylight.
She sighed and went back downstairs, searching around until she found some food.
Then she began cooking, waiting for Wild.
> "He looks strong… calm… but strange too.
Like when he burned his fingers... why would anyone do that?
Still, I'm grateful for everything he's done.
But I'm also afraid…
As if he's fighting something inside him.
But then again, don't we all have things we don't want to talk about?
Even me…"
As she finished, she reached for the plates—
And saw a photograph.
Wild was in it, with another boy. They looked close, like brothers or friends.
Just as she touched it, the door creaked open.
Wild entered with that same cold look.
He noticed her with the photo but didn't say a word.
He dropped the supplies, then looked at the food.
> "Did you cook this?"
She answered with hesitation, a little flustered:
> "Y-yes…"
He sat across from her, picked up the plate, and began to eat.
> "Thank you. It's warm… and good."
Something in her lit up—pride, perhaps. Or warmth.
She wanted the moment to last just a bit longer.
She looked at her plate and started eating too.
Meanwhile, Wild thought:
> "She's sweet… gentle… maybe she'd accept you."
Then another voice replied inside his head:
"No. You need survival, not love. This isn't some childish cartoon.
You'll hurt her. You always hurt people…"
He stayed silent, eating.
Afterward, she washed the dishes, and he went to fix some parts of the shelter.
Later, she approached the bookshelf and asked in a quiet voice:
> "Can I…?"
He didn't even look up:
> "Yes."
She smiled faintly and began flipping through the old books.
Most were classic literature or scattered novels.
She read for a bit, then paused at a line:
> "What is love? Is it just two people trying to fill their desires?
Or two broken souls trying to complete each other?"
She froze.
He had been watching her. She noticed and stepped back, nervous.
But he said:
> "To me… love is when two people—physically, emotionally, or mentally—are missing something.
So they come together.
At first, like animals. Desire. Need.
But if they're patient, if they're willing to sacrifice, to care…
That's when love grows.
Love isn't a thing you find.
It's something you raise.
A plant that grows from desire… only if fed by sacrifice.
There's a thin line between love and lust."
He walked back to his corner, picked up a book, and began reading.
She sat in silence, still trying to understand what he meant.
> "He's so strange... but wise.
Like someone who's been through more than I can imagine."
Time passed, until night began to fall.
This was the first time she saw him asleep before her.
> His face looked peaceful… and tired.
He seemed human again.
She found herself staring at him with quiet softness.
Then she heard him murmur in his sleep:
> "I shouldn't have listened to him…
I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
She froze. His voice was broken. Weak.
> "Who is he talking about?
What happened to him… before he met me?"
She didn't wake him.
She returned to bed, pulled the blanket over her chest, and curled into herself.
> "What breaks a man like him?" she wondered.
"Is it his mistakes? The world? Or his own choices?"
She slowly drifted off to sleep, the sound of monsters outside fading away—
But her mind was too full of questions to hear them.