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Wesley never had a problem with anyone. Her life had always looked perfect from the outside-good family, good friends, good teachers, enough money to never worry. She was set. At least, that's what everyone believed.
Then the world ended.
The day the apocalypse began, she lost her mother. And maybe her father too. He didn't die in front of them. He didn't say goodbye. He just... vanished. One day he was there, the next he was a question no one could answer.
The streets filled with the dead that week. People ran, screamed, prayed. Wesley ran too. She saw things she shouldn't have survived-hands grabbing, teeth snapping too close to her skin.
But they never quite got her.
She and her siblings clung to each other after that. They told themselves that as long as they stayed together, they'd be okay. As long as they had each other, nothing else could take them down.
They were wrong.
When they crossed paths with two strangers who were determined-almost hopeful-to take the three children in, everything shifted. Safety stopped meaning together. Trust became something fragile.
Wesley remembered the way the strangers looked at her sometimes, like they were trying to solve a puzzle she didn't understand yet.
And that was the moment their lives split into before and after.