Unbreakable threads

Chapter Thirty-Five: quiet resolve.

As the uncomfortable silence lingered over the farmhouse, the rest of the group began to scatter from the table. Chairs scraped against the floor as people awkwardly excused themselves, each finding a way to busy themselves, whether it was helping in the kitchen, pretending to clean up, or quietly heading out to their tents. No one wanted to linger in the tension-filled room with Shane's gaze still fixated on Lori, his obsession evident, a fierce possessiveness in his eyes as he looked at the woman now carrying his child.

Lori sat there, visibly shaken, unable to meet Shane's intense stare. She clutched her hands tightly in her lap, wringing her fingers in silent turmoil, as Carl glanced between his mother and Shane, sensing the unease but not fully understanding the depth of it. Daryl remained beside Alyssa and Carl, his presence steady and protective, his eyes flicking occasionally toward Shane with a wary, guarded look. He was ready to step in if Shane's intensity threatened to escalate, silently watching, making sure his own family—Alyssa—stayed safe.

Alyssa, still seated between Carl and Daryl, felt a pang of sympathy as her gaze drifted to the porch, where she could see her father, Rick, sitting alone in the darkening evening, his shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the farmhouse. He looked shattered, his grief and anger simmering just below the surface. For all his faults, for all the ways he hadn't been there for her, Alyssa couldn't ignore the pain etched into his face. She understood now that, despite his failings, he didn't deserve this betrayal. She'd seen the love in his eyes whenever he looked at Lori, the way he'd tried to protect her and Carl. And now, all of that had come crashing down.

With a quiet sigh, she gently unwrapped herself from Carl's embrace, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She reached out and squeezed Daryl's hand, a silent thank-you for his unwavering support, before she rose from the table. Daryl gave her a brief nod, a flicker of understanding in his gaze. He knew where she was going, and he approved, trusting her to be there for Rick, even if Rick hadn't yet been there for her.

Alyssa stepped out onto the porch, the cool evening air brushing against her skin as she quietly approached her father. Rick didn't turn to look at her, his gaze still fixed on some invisible point in the distance, but she sensed he knew she was there. She eased down onto the porch steps beside him, folding her hands in her lap as she allowed the silence to settle between them. Words felt unnecessary, almost intrusive. She didn't know exactly what to say, but she knew he needed someone to just be there, someone who understood the ache of betrayal, even if it was only through a silent presence.

For a while, they sat in silence, the sounds of crickets and the distant rustling of the trees filling the quiet around them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Rick exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper, raw and full of pain. "I thought... I thought we could make it work," he murmured, almost to himself. "I thought I'd come back and... and we'd just pick up the pieces. Like none of it happened. Like we could be a family again."

Alyssa felt her throat tighten, her own heart aching for him. She wanted to say something, to offer him some kind of comfort, but she struggled to find the words. She wasn't good at this—she was used to putting up walls, using sarcasm and wit to keep people at arm's length. But sitting here with Rick, seeing him so vulnerable, she realized this was a moment to let those walls down, even just a little.

"Maybe it's not as simple as that," she said quietly, choosing her words carefully. "But... maybe it doesn't have to be perfect to still be something. Family doesn't just mean everything goes right all the time. Sometimes, it's just... sticking around. Even when things get messy."

Rick looked at her then, his eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and something softer, like he was seeing her for the first time. For a brief moment, he looked less like a leader, less like the man carrying the weight of everyone's survival, and more like a father—a man trying to find his way back to the family he barely knew. He offered her a small, pained smile, a silent acknowledgment of her words.