Something

"You did the right thing," I said.

He slipped his hand into his pocket and kept walking, eyes fixed ahead. I was walking beside him. The monsters were no longer chasing us…

I wanted to ask his name. But then I thought what difference would it make? Knowing his name wouldn't change anything. In a world like this, who even remembers names anymore?

I just said, "Hmm."

He looked at me and asked, "How are you still alive?"

That question hit me hard. My eyelashes trembled slightly.

"I don't know myself," I whispered.

We walked through the empty street in silence. I had brought him with me—Mic. There was still a long night ahead, and I knew we needed shelter. We entered an old building where the air felt heavy and forgotten. Blood was scattered on the floor, dried and crusted along the cracks. The entire place looked abandoned, lifeless. But as we stepped inside, an unexpected smell floated in the air—cooked rice.

Inside, sitting quietly on the floor, was Era. My little sister. She was combing her doll's hair, lost in her world, smiling faintly as if the horror outside didn't exist. Beside her was Granny. The same old woman who had once helped me survive the early days. She used to live here with her husband, but after he got infected, she killed him with her own hands. Now, those same trembling hands cooked food for Era, trying to keep something human alive.

"Where did you get the rice from?" I asked Granny, my voice low, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace.

"I stole it from a man," Granny said in her soft, trembling voice.

I stayed silent.

In times like these, right or wrong doesn't make sense anymore. The only thing that matters is survival. And that's what all of us were doing—just trying to stay alive.

Mic stood frozen beside me, like a statue. Maybe he was trying to process it all—a granny and a little girl, living like this, still human, still untouched by the infection. It didn't make sense, not in this world.

"Where's the bathroom?" Mic asked suddenly, his eyes darting around as he searched the place.

"That side," Granny replied softly, pointing with her wrinkled hand.

Era turned toward me with a bright smile. "Brother, what did you bring?"

I opened Mic's bag and reached in. With a small grin, I pulled out a milk packet. "Tada! Look," I said, waving it toward her.

She giggled, her face lighting up with a joy that felt like sunshine in this dark world.

Mic stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still wet and dripping at the ends. He looked tired, but clean—like he had just washed off the weight of the past few days. The old water tank still had some pressure, and warm water was a rare blessing in this place.

Era turned to me with her bowl half full and offered it with both hands.

"Bhaiya, my stomach is full. You eat the rest."

I looked at her for a moment. Her cheeks were thinner than they used to be, her eyes too mature for her age. I leaned forward and kissed her soft cheek.

"Such a sweet little liar," I said in my mind.

Mic sat down near the corner, rubbing his hands together for warmth. The floor was cold. The winter breeze had started sneaking in through the cracks in the walls.

"So... no monsters come here?" he asked quietly. His voice had a rough edge to it, probably from days of breathing dust and smoke.

Granny was busy in the corner, buttoning up an old woolen sweater. It was for Era. She'd been saving it for when the cold became unbearable.

"No," Granny replied, not even looking up. "They don't come here. This place is forgotten... deserted. No smell goes out, and no noise comes in. That's why we've stayed here for over a year now."

Mic looked around and nodded slowly. "A bunker... inside a ruined building. Smart."

I didn't reply. I was watching the last bit of soup in the bowl. It was thin, mostly water, but enough to warm the stomach.

Mic noticed a diary lying on the ground near the mattress. He picked it up, brushing off the dust, and started flipping through the pages. His eyes scanned my writing—cramped and messy, but full of pain.

"This... your handwriting?" he asked.

I nodded.

"It's... three years' worth of stuff in here?"

"Yeah."

"Your parents... how you got here... and... how you saved your sister?"

I didn't respond immediately. My throat felt tight. I only said, "Someone has to write it all down."

Mic didn't say anything else. He quietly closed the diary and placed it gently back on the ground.

There was only one bed in the room. Old, wooden, creaky, and covered in dust. The mattress had holes. We had no pillows. No blankets. Just each other.

I looked around. The cold was going to get worse in the coming days. I needed to find a blanket. Or at least something thicker than the rags we had.

In the corner, folded unevenly, was an old sheet. Thin, dusty, and nearly torn in places. But it was something.

I grabbed it, shook it out, and laid it over the bed.

"Era," I whispered.

She looked up, sleepy-eyed, and walked to me. I picked her up and placed her gently on the bed. She lay down without a word, trusting me completely.

Her tiny hand reached out and grabbed my fingers tightly. I sat down beside her, not moving.

Her fingers clung to mine as if to say,

Don't go, bhaiya. Not tonight. Not ever.

Mic lay down on the floor near the wall, using his arm as a pillow. Granny leaned against the broken cabinet, already closing her eyes.

Silence filled the room. The world outside still roared with infection, screams, and monsters that hunted by scent. But here... at least for tonight... we had peace.

Even if the peace was old and dusty.

Even if the warmth came from holding onto each other.

Even if the future was unknown.

For tonight... we were alive.