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EPILOGUE: A LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES
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twenty years later
WHEN MIDNIGHT HIT on a warm spring evening, a brunette, bright-eyed girl — no older than twelve — wandered out of her bedroom. Sleep wouldn't come. She couldn't stop thinking about a photograph she'd discovered earlier that day, tucked away in the back of her father's closet. Her parents had been out at work, her father on a run with other citizens of Alexandria, her mother arming the wall. Alone after school, she'd sneaked inside and poked around, searching for something interesting to amuse herself before her parents returned. She found an old shoebox in the closet's shadows. Nestled inside was a photograph: a younger version of her father with a pretty blonde girl who definitely wasn't her mother. Lucy noticed something else — she looked a little like the mother of one of her friends.
Lucy Grimes, the child of Carl Grimes and Abigail Grimes, was born in Alexandria during a blizzard in the dead of winter. Her birth was easy — so was the pregnancy. Raising her, however, was not. She had a knack for finding places she shouldn't go, a trait inherited from her father. That very curiosity led her to the box of photographs. She spotted some familiar faces: Grandpa Rick, Grandma Michonne, Aunt Judith, Uncle RJ. But the blonde-haired girl remained a stranger.
Lucy sat on the front porch with the shoebox in her lap, sorting through the photographs. Only a few showed the pretty blonde — just one was with her father. Who was the blonde girl? What had happened to her? Even at her age, Lucy understood death; she'd faced it. She wondered if the girl fell prey to walkers or if bad people were to blame. Why had her father hidden these pictures, never mentioning the girl from his youth?
"Lucy, what are you doing out here? It's late," Carl Grimes stepped onto the porch.
Lucy quickly stacked the pictures back in the box and pressed the lid down, her hands shaking a little, but Carl had already caught sight of what she held. Carl paused by the door, his eyes fixed on the black shoebox now in his daughter's lap. He recognized it immediately and, remembering Lucy's curious nature, realized she must have searched deliberately until she found it.
"N — Nothing," Lucy lied.
Carl sighed and sat beside his daughter on the porch swing, "What do you have there?"
Lucy hesitated before passing the box to Carl, watching his expression as he took it and set it on his lap. She then looked up at him, searching his face before she finally asked, "Who is she?"
Carl looked at his daughter, recognizing the question without her having to say it directly. He hadn't spoken about her in years, although she crossed his mind every day. Now, he was married, with a daughter, yet some memories never faded. Carl opened the box, pulling out the photo. Melanie Briar — her face, her voice — remained vivid, even now.
Carl handed the photograph to Lucy, "This is Melanie Briar. She was my girlfriend twenty years ago when I was a few years older than you."
"Your girlfriend?" Lucy asked as she observed the image. The two of them were cuddling in the picture. His arm was around her, and her head rested on his chest. They seemed to be in love. "She's pretty."
Carl smiled softly, "Yeah, she was."
"What happened to her?" Lucy asked.
Carl's throat tightened as he remembered that day — the blinding flash, chaos erupting around him, her blood hot and sticky on his shaking hands. Waves of helplessness and anguish crashed through him. He could still hear her last breath, her whispered goodbye, as her life slipped away in his arms. The nightmares never released him. He spoke low, his voice rough with the weight of grief he could never set down. "She died saving my life."
Lucy watched the sadness fill her father's face, the pain raw and open despite twenty years. She sensed, in that moment, just how deeply Carl had loved Melanie Briar. Lucy's voice trembled as she asked, "Did you love her?"
Carl smiled and nodded, "Yeah... I did. She was my first love."
"Did you love her like you love Mom?" Lucy asked.
When Carl first met Abigail, his heart was wasteland — ruined and charred by loss. He doubted he'd ever recover from losing Melanie. Sometimes, he still doubted it. Gradually, though, Abigail found him, piecing him back together from broken fragments, lifting him from darkness. Once, he'd saved Melanie. Abigail, in turn, saved him.
"I still love Melanie. I will always love Melanie," Carl explained to Lucy. "I love your mother, too. She saved me after I lost Melanie."
Lucy looked at the photograph again, "She looks a little like Mel's mom."
"Margot is Melanie's older sister," Carl explained, smiling as he thought of the day Margot gave birth to Mel. He remembered how Margot explained she was naming her daughter after Melanie. "Mel was named after Melanie."
"Do you miss Melanie?"
Carl nodded, "Every day. Not a day goes by that I don't miss her or think about her."
"I'm sorry, Dad," Lucy apologized.
Carl shook his head, "It's okay. I have you and your mom. I'm okay."
Lucy handed the photo to Carl, who placed it back in the box with deliberate care before replacing the lid. Standing up from the porch swing, he held out his hand to Lucy. "Now, come on, it's late, and you have school in the morning."
Carl held the door open for Lucy, watching her small form disappear up the stairs, leaving him caged again in silence. He lowered himself onto the couch and opened the shoebox with trembling hands. Each photograph stung — a flash of Melanie's laughter, her teasing smile frozen in time, her brightness cutting through his aching loneliness. The bittersweet ache pressed against his ribs; these photos were sacred, fragile fragments of love, impossible to hold and impossible to let go.
Melanie Briar had been light and kindness stitched together with raw pain. When Carl met her, her heart was barricaded by hurt, but he offered her gentleness until she let herself trust again. In saving each other, she gave everything the night she died. The guilt scorched Carl, but clinging to her memory was like breathing. Even decades later, his heart burned with a love that grief could not dull. No matter how many years passed, Carl knew he would love Melanie until his last breath, as she had loved him until hers.
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[ 1.1K WORDS ]
ahhh i finished this book!!
i originally joined wattpad to read carl grimes fanfiction and finally, i've completed my own carl grimes fanfic!! i hope you all enjoyed reading this story as much as i enjoyed writing it and i hope you check out my other books!
