The days following Ethan's arrival had brought an unexpected sense of calm. The survivors had become more coordinated, and their focus was starting to shift from simply surviving to regaining some semblance of normality. They found a small, relatively safe haven—a dilapidated farmhouse tucked away deep in the woods, hidden from the roaming hunters. It wasn't much, but it was theirs for now.
The survivors took turns keeping watch, but for the first time in weeks, there was a brief respite. Elena allowed herself to relax for the first time in a long while. She spent the days checking the perimeter, helping with food supplies, and even finding small moments to talk with the others. The bond between the group was growing, despite the tension that still clung to the air.
Alex, who had been distant and distracted for days, seemed more present than he had in ages. His eyes, once constantly scanning for threats, now occasionally lingered on Elena with a softness that she couldn't ignore. It was a relief—an almost haunting relief—but it also brought a storm of questions she didn't feel ready to ask. Was there still something between them? Or was it all just the remnants of a past life they could never return to?
But it was Alexa who seemed to change the most. Though she had kept a watchful distance from Elena, the last few days had softened her exterior. She was no longer just Alex's girlfriend—she was becoming a part of the team. And while Elena appreciated her contribution, there was a part of her that could never fully accept the easy camaraderie that was blossoming between them.
It was on one of those quiet afternoons, as they gathered around the fire outside the farmhouse, that things began to unravel.
Alex had left to scout the nearby area with Ethan, leaving Elena and Alexa alone by the fire. The air was thick with unspoken tension, a silent war between them that had never fully come to the surface. Elena knew she needed to say something, and Alexa seemed to sense it too.
Alexa was sharpening her knife, her movements precise, almost mechanical. She didn't look up when Elena spoke.
"I think it's good that we have some peace," Elena said, her voice calm but laced with an edge. "We've earned it."
Alexa's eyes flicked up briefly, catching Elena's gaze. "Earned it?" she repeated with a raised brow, her tone sharp. "We're still just surviving. You don't get to relax in this world. Not until it's over."
Elena clenched her fists in her lap, forcing herself to stay calm. "I didn't mean it like that," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I meant that we've been through so much. It's okay to have a moment where we're not constantly on edge."
For a moment, there was only the crackling of the fire between them, but Alexa's gaze never wavered.
"You think I don't know that?" Alexa said, her voice low, tinged with frustration. "But it's not that simple, Elena. You're here acting like everything's fine, like you've got it all figured out, but you don't understand. You don't get it."
Elena's heart raced as Alexa's words stung deeper than she had anticipated. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. She hadn't expected Alexa to lash out, but it was clear now that the other woman was holding onto something—something that had been festering beneath the surface.
Alexa stood abruptly, tossing the knife aside. "I mean, you think I don't see what's happening. You think I don't know the way Alex looks at you." She paced a few steps away, clearly trying to gather her thoughts, but her anger was palpable.
Elena's chest tightened, and her throat went dry. She had been expecting something like this. The unspoken tension between her and Alex was obvious, even if she tried to ignore it. But hearing Alexa voice it made her feel exposed, vulnerable.
"What do you want from me?" Elena asked, her voice trembling slightly despite her best effort to remain composed. "You know how things are. You know what's going on with all of us."
Alexa spun around, her eyes burning with intensity. "What I want is for you to stop pretending like you're innocent in this. You think I don't see it? How you look at him, how he looks at you? You think I don't feel that?"
Elena stood up, her heart pounding, the words she had been holding back finally bubbling to the surface. "You're right. I do look at him a certain way. And maybe he looks at me differently, too. But that's not something I can control, Alexa! Things are complicated, and we're just trying to survive. I'm not the enemy here!"
There was a long, tense silence, the air between them crackling with unresolved emotion. Alexa's eyes softened for just a second, before she spoke again, her voice quieter now but no less fierce.
"I'm not saying you're the enemy," she said, her gaze turning away, as if ashamed of herself. "But I'm not going to stand here and pretend like I don't care. I'm not going to let you take everything from me."
Elena's eyes widened, confusion flooding her senses. "What are you talking about? I'm not trying to take anything from you."
Alexa's expression hardened again, and she stepped closer to Elena, her voice barely above a whisper. "You already have."
Before Elena could respond, the sound of footsteps from behind interrupted them. Alex emerged from the shadows, his eyes scanning the scene as he took in the tension between the two women.
"What's going on here?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
Elena and Alexa exchanged one final, loaded glance before Elena spoke, her voice soft but firm. "We're fine. Just… talking."
Alexa quickly turned her back on them, walking off toward the farmhouse without another word. Elena stood there for a moment, her heart racing. The weight of the confrontation was still heavy on her chest, and she wasn't sure how to move forward from it.
Alex approached her cautiously. "What happened? What did she say?"
Elena turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "It doesn't matter. Not now."
But as she walked away, her heart was torn between the two people she cared about most in this harsh, post-apocalyptic world. And the fear of what would happen next—when everything they had built would inevitably start to unravel—hung over her like a dark cloud.