Riley sighed in pure contentment as she finished the st sip of her coffee, cradling the warm cup in her hands. "Okay, I’m officially convinced. You were a wizard in your past life. I don’t know how you pulled this off, but I don’t even care."

  Hugo smirked slightly as he packed up the camping stove, keeping his movements efficient. "Told you to wait for me."

  She stretched, rolling her shoulders. "Worth it. Best morning in a long time. Maybe ever."

  Salem flicked his tail zily from his perch on the van’s dashboard, watching them with half-lidded eyes. The cat had already taken a liking to Riley’s p, and now that he was well-rested and fed, he seemed content to observe their morning ritual in silence.

  Hugo checked his gear, slinging his pack over his shoulder. "Come on. We’re heading out."

  Riley raised an eyebrow, standing up and dusting herself off. "Where to?"

  "Somewhere safe," he said simply.

  She didn’t question him. Maybe it was the coffee, or maybe she was just in a good mood, but she followed without compint as he led them away from the van and onto the streets.

  This time, he avoided all the usual dangers. No detour to the bar. No risking the bank. No sign of the Behemoth anywhere in sight. Hugo kept them moving, ducking through alleys, cutting through abandoned buildings when needed, sticking to side streets where the undead presence was thinner.

  The path was longer, but safer.

  And through it all, Riley talked.

  More than usual.

  "So, what’s the pn here, exactly?" she asked, sidestepping a broken parking meter. "You’ve got this whole ‘mysterious survivor’ vibe going on, but I’m starting to think you actually have a pn."

  "I do," Hugo admitted.

  "And?"

  "We’re going to my old restaurant."

  She blinked, then gave him a sideways grin. "Wait, really? That fancy pce you worked at? That’s where we’re going?"

  "It’s intact. Good location. We can stay there."

  She let out a low whistle. "Damn, Hugo. You really are trying to spoil me. First coffee, now fine dining? If you pull out a bottle of wine, I might actually start believing in miracles."

  Hugo didn’t respond, but he gnced at her with the faintest hint of amusement.

  Riley kept talking, filling the silence between them. She told him about the first time she had ever tried real coffee—stolen from her dad’s cup when she was nine. She talked about how she used to hate mornings, how she’d sleep until noon if she could, how she had always dreamed of traveling but never got the chance before the world ended.

  Hugo listened. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t mind the sound of her voice. It was better than the silence. Better than the weight of past failures pressing down on him.

  By the time they reached the restaurant, the sun was high in the sky, just past noon. Hugo led her up to the entrance, then held up a hand to stop her. "Wait here."

  Riley frowned. "Seriously?"

  "Just for a minute."

  She sighed but leaned against the wall outside. "Fine. Just don’t get yourself killed in there."

  Hugo didn’t respond. He stepped inside, moving swiftly and silently. The restaurant had three walkers still lingering—one shuffling near the bar, another trapped between overturned tables, and the st one aimlessly pacing near the kitchen. He gripped his crowbar tighter and went to work.

  The first kill was quick—a sharp blow to the base of the skull, the walker crumpling without a sound. The second required a bit more effort, maneuvering through the clutter before driving the crowbar deep into its temple. The third turned toward him at the st second, letting out a guttural moan before Hugo silenced it with a brutal swing.

  He dragged the bodies toward the back, making sure they wouldn’t stink up the main area. Once the space was cleared, he wiped his crowbar on a rag and turned his attention to the dining floor.

  Dust clung to everything, but the furniture was mostly intact. He found a table close to the kitchen, cleared it off, and wiped it down as best as he could. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

  Finally, he returned to the entrance and pushed the door open. "Alright. Come in."

  Riley stepped inside, gncing around. "Huh. Not bad. Little dusty, but way better than I expected."

  Hugo nodded. "It’ll do."

  Hugo stepped forward and pulled out a chair for her. "Sit."

  Riley raised an eyebrow but smirked, pying along as she slid into the seat. "Well, aren’t you fancy?"

  Hugo didn’t respond, already heading toward the kitchen. He rummaged through the storage room and found what he was looking for—a stainless steel pan, still in decent shape. Bringing it back to the table, he pced it in front of her.

  "Uh… great. We’re serving pots and pans now?" she joked, leaning on the table with a grin.

  Hugo smirked and pulled out his Sony CD pyer, setting it next to the pan. He plugged in his headphones, then pced them inside the pan before turning the volume to maximum. The sound amplified, echoing slightly.

  Riley let out a short ugh. "Are you kidding me? This is your surround sound setup?"

  Hugo shrugged. "Old trick I picked up in the kitchen before Bluetooth speakers were a thing."

  She shook her head, still chuckling. "You’re full of surprises, man."

  Hugo smirked. "This is only the beginning."

  Before she could ask, he stood and walked toward the back storage room, rummaging through the shelves. Moments ter, he returned with an expensive bottle of wine, a bottle opener, and two unbroken gsses—one of the few luxuries still intact.

  Riley’s eyebrows shot up. "No way. You actually found wine?"

  Hugo mimicked a refined waiter’s stance, holding the bottle like a prized possession. "Madam, welcome to the finest dining experience in the apocalypse," he said in an exaggerated, formal tone as he expertly uncorked the bottle and poured her a gss.

  Riley ughed, shaking her head as she accepted the drink. "Alright, now this is getting ridiculous."

  "Only the best for our customers" Hugo replied smoothly, pouring himself a gss before setting it down. Then, without another word, he stood and made his way back into the kitchen.

  Riley leaned back in her chair, watching him with mild curiosity. "And where are you going now?"

  "Cooking something up," Hugo called over his shoulder. "Might as well make this an actual meal."

  She let out an amused scoff. "What, you’re gonna serve me a gourmet dish in the middle of the end of the world?"

  "That’s the pn."

  He rummaged through the kitchen, pulling out whatever ingredients he could salvage. A few spices, some canned goods, and a half-decent cut of dried meat. It wasn’t much, but with the right technique, it could be turned into something better than the usual scavenged meals.

  Riley swirled the wine in her gss, smirking as she watched him work. "You know, if this whole apocalypse thing didn’t happen, you’d probably be some big-shot chef by now."

  Hugo chuckled, shaking his head. "Doubt it. But I knew my way around a kitchen."

  "Clearly," she mused, taking another sip of wine. "Alright, chef. Impress me."

  After some time, Hugo emerged from the kitchen carrying two bowls, steam rising from the contents. Nestled in the crook of his arm was a smaller bowl, meant for Salem. He pced one in front of Riley before setting his own down, then bent down to pce the smaller dish on the floor beside the cat.

  "Slightly spicy instant ramen with rehydrated beef, fried onion, and crushed peanuts," he announced as if presenting a five-star dish.

  Riley raised an eyebrow before grinning. "Alright, that actually looks pretty damn good. Fancy apocalypse dining, huh?"

  Hugo smirked as he took a seat.

  Riley lifted her spoon, blowing lightly on the steaming broth before taking a cautious sip. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Okay… damn. This is actually really good."

  Hugo took a bite of his own, nodding slightly. "Not bad considering what I had to work with."

  She scooped up some of the beef, savoring the mix of fvors before smirking. "You trying to impress me, chef?"

  Hugo met her gaze with a calm expression. "Is it working?"

  She ughed, shaking her head. "I don’t know whether to be impressed or jealous that you managed to make apocalypse ramen taste this good."

  Salem, already halfway through his smaller portion, let out a satisfied rumble, licking his chops before curling his tail around himself.

  Riley tapped her spoon against the edge of her bowl, tilting her head. "You know, this might actually be the best meal I’ve had since the world went to hell."

  Hugo took another slow bite before gncing at her. "That’s a low bar."

  She chuckled. "True. But still, points for effort." She leaned back, eyeing him pyfully. "So, what else you got in your culinary arsenal? What’s the next five-star dish on the menu?"

  Hugo smirked slightly. "Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so there is a next course?"

  "Maybe. If you survive long enough to taste it."

  She let out a mock gasp. "Is that a challenge?"

  Hugo simply took another bite, his smirk deepening. "More like an incentive."

  They kept talking as they ate, the conversation flowing easily, lighter than it had been in a long time. Riley teased him about his cooking skills, and Hugo deflected with dry humor. It felt almost normal—almost like things hadn’t completely fallen apart outside these walls.

  The bottle of wine slowly emptied between them. Riley's cheeks flushed slightly, her usual sharpness softened by the alcohol. She swirled the st remnants of wine in her gss, then leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly.

  Then, without warning, her expression shifted. The lightness faded, repced by something more uncertain. She pressed her hand to her forehead, wincing.

  Hugo tensed immediately. "You okay?"

  She hesitated before letting out a quiet ugh, though it cked her usual energy. "I think the wine hit me harder than I expected. Or maybe it’s just… everything."

  Hugo watched her carefully. The way her fingers subtly clenched the table, the tension in her shoulders—it wasn’t just the wine.

  "Why did you do all this?" she asked suddenly, her voice quieter. "The coffee, the food, the wine… why go through all that trouble for me?"

  Hugo met her gaze. He could have lied. Could have brushed it off as nothing. But instead, he exhaled, leaning forward slightly. "Because I already lost you once. And the time before that. And the time before that."

  Her brow furrowed. "What?"

  His jaw tightened. "Riley… you died. More times than I can count. Every time I tried to save you, I failed. So I started over. Again and again. Until I got it right. Until I got this—" he gestured vaguely around them, "—a chance for something better. A night where you’re still here."

  She stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then, she let out a small, shaky breath. "You’re serious."

  He nodded. "Yeah."

  Riley swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. "That’s… a lot to process."

  Hugo didn’t say anything. He just waited.

  Finally, she looked up at him again, her voice barely above a whisper. "And what happens next?"

  Hugo exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "The bite you got before I saved you—before any of this—you were already infected."

  Riley's expression twisted in confusion. "What? No, that doesn't make sense. It wasn’t a walker. It was just some little animal."

  Hugo shook his head. "Doesn’t matter. Whatever it was, it carried the infection. You were already turning before I even found you."

  Her breathing quickened, panic fshing in her eyes. "No. No, that’s not—" She stopped, as if the weight of his words had suddenly crushed her lungs. "You mean to tell me that no matter what I do, no matter how careful I am, I was already dead from the start?"

  Only the sound of the music could be heard in the background. There was only silence for a while.

  Then Riley pushed her chair back and stood up. Hugo barely had time to react before she reached for his hand and tugged at him, forcing him to his feet.

  "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice low.

  She looked up at him, her eyes gssy but determined. "I want one st dance. Before I have to die."

  Hugo hesitated. "I don’t dance."

  "Then shut up and follow my lead," she said, squeezing his hand tighter.

  He exhaled sharply but didn’t resist as she pced his other hand on her waist and started to move. She was light on her feet, guiding him with practiced ease. "I used to dance before all this," she murmured. "Figured I should do it one st time."

  Hugo let her lead, his movements stiff at first, but as the music pyed on, he started following her rhythm. For a moment, there was no infection, no death waiting at the end of the night—just the two of them, swaying to a song pying through an old CD pyer in a stainless steel pan.

  Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.

  As they swayed, Riley’s grip on him tightened. Her breath hitched, and he felt something damp against his chest. It took him a second to realize—she was crying.

  "Hugo…" Her voice was barely a whisper. "I don’t want to turn."

  His grip on her instinctively tightened, but he didn’t speak.

  "I want to die as me. Not as one of them," she continued, her voice trembling. "I want to go out as Riley. Not some mindless monster."

  Hugo swallowed hard, his throat dry. He already knew what she was asking before she even said it.

  "I want you to do it," she whispered. "While I’m still me. While I can still hold on. Please."

  She wouldn’t let go. She pressed herself against him, her body shivering, her silent tears soaking into his shirt. He felt paralyzed, unable to move, unable to speak, only listening to the quiet song still pying in the background.

  She was asking him to be the one to end it. And she wasn’t letting go.

  Hugo’s fingers curled into fists at her back, his breath uneven. He wanted to tell her no, to refuse, to fight for another way—but there wasn’t one. They both knew it.

  With a slow, measured breath, he reached for his pistol.

  Riley’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, she held on tighter, her face buried against his chest. "Just… stay with me," she murmured. "Just for a little longer."

  Hugo swallowed hard. "I’m here."

  They swayed for a few more moments, the music still pying softly through the makeshift speaker. Then, with a quiet resolve, he raised the gun, pressing it gently against the side of her head.

  "I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice raw.

  Riley let out a shaky breath. "Don’t be."

  A single gunshot echoed through the empty restaurant.

  Her body went limp in his arms.

  Hugo didn’t move. His arms remained wrapped around her, holding her up even as the st of her warmth faded away. The music pyed on, oblivious to what had just happened.

  For the longest time, he just stood there, his chin resting lightly against her hair, his eyes shut tight. No tears came. Only a hollow ache settled deep in his chest.

  He had done it.

  And once again, he had failed to save her.