You're satisfied for now, and not as angry anymore (not with Sarah, at least).

As your mind processes everything that Sarah told you, you find it surprisingly difficult to stay angry at her for what happened. You want to be angry with her, you're trying to be angry with her. By her own admission it was her fault that she and Todd had had sex, having initiated everything by kissing him, but when you think about how she described how she felt at that moment, you just can't bring yourself to really blame her so harshly for what happened.

After all, it wasn't that long ago that Todd had made you feel pretty much the same way; special, wanted, and loved... for pretty much the first time since the plague took Charlie from you, much like it had taken Sarah's husband from her. And if it wasn't for those men intruding upon you you would have been doing the same thing with Todd that Sarah had, needing nothing but a few sweet words and your own pent-up needs for you to open the door for him. Because of all that, because she had saved your life, and because she had actually told you what happened instead of keeping it a secret, you find yourself simply unable to stay angry with her.

...Todd, on the other hand...

“...Thank you,” you finally say, the harshness having faded from your voice.

Sarah lightly clenches at the bed sheets and shakes her head in response.

“I mean it...” you insist, reaching out and placing your hand on hers. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Why? Why are you thanking me?” Sarah asks, clearly fighting back a few tears. “I probably just ruined your relationship. All because of some stupid, selfish, teenage-hormonal impulse...”

“No, you didn't. To be honest, you probably just saved me from falling too deeply into one,” you reply.

Sarah finally looks up at you and wipes the dampness from her eyes, looking confused by your words. “W-What? What do you mean? I thought you two were...”

“Yeah, so did I...” you interject. “I mean, we weren't really 'official' or anything yet, I guess. Hmh...whatever that even means anymore,” you explain, pausing to give an amused huff at the idea given the state of the world before elaborating. “We were just friends back before the plague hit and the world went to hell. I had a serious boyfriend and all that jazz. We only even met up again for the first time just a little while before all... this happened,” you say and gesture at your gunshot wound.

“After I found him, we got to talking a little bit when we got back to my place and he explains how he had always had feelings for me...that I was apparently his perfect 'dream girl' all this time and meant the world to him, and that he always thought I was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen,” you explain. You then shake head and give a crooked laugh at the thought. “Hmph... It all just sounds like such bullshit now.”