***Greg & the nurse

The day Greg arrived...

The house was quiet, save for the faint creak of old wood settling under the weight of time. Olivia stood in the kitchen, carefully organizing their meager supplies into neat rows on the counter. She hummed softly, a tune that felt almost foreign in this shattered world, but it kept her grounded, gave her a sliver of normalcy amidst the chaos.

Noah had left earlier, his jaw set in that determined way she had come to recognize. He’d promised to be back by nightfall, heading deeper into town to scavenge for food and tools. She had asked to go with him, but he’d refused, his protectiveness overriding her protests.

Now, she was alone. Or rather, alone with Greg.

The creak of footsteps behind her broke her concentration, and Olivia turned to see Greg leaning painfully against the doorway, clutching his injured side. His rough, unshaven face was illuminated by the dim light filtering through the window, and his hazel eyes were fixed on her in a way that made her uneasy.

“Organized, huh?” he said, gesturing to the cans and jars on the counter. His voice was low, carrying a hint of something she couldn’t quite place.

“It helps,” Olivia replied, forcing a polite smile. She picked up a can of beans and placed it on the shelf. “We need to know what we have if we’re going to make it last.”

Greg stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “You’re a smart one. Noah’s lucky to have you. You remind me of someone, you know.”

Olivia stiffened slightly, her hands stilling. “Oh?”

“My wife,” Greg said, his voice softening. “She was strong, like you. Kind, too. Always thinking about others, even when things got tough.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Olivia said carefully, turning back to the supplies. She hoped the conversation would end there, but Greg didn’t leave.

“You even look like her,” he continued, his tone growing wistful. “The blonde hair, the way you carry yourself... It’s uncanny.”

Olivia glanced over her shoulder, her smile faltering. “That’s... a coincidence, I guess.”

Greg took another step forward, his presence looming now. “You don’t have to be modest. I see it. Hell, I feel it. Being around you—it’s like I’ve got a piece of her back.”

Olivia’s stomach twisted. She stepped back, putting the counter between them. “Greg, I—”

“I’m just saying,” he interrupted, raising his hands as if in surrender. “You’re something special, Olivia. A guy like Noah, he’s lucky. Damn lucky.”

The room felt smaller, the air heavier. Olivia straightened her spine, her voice firm. "I think you should rest, you're aggravating the wound."

Greg’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he nodded slowly, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You’re probably right. Just thought you should know... what your help mean to me.”

As he turned and walked away, Olivia exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. The house felt colder, darker, even as the sun began to rise outside. She continued to sort their supplies, but her mind was elsewhere—drifting, uneasily, between the man who had just left and the one she hoped would return soon.