CHAPTER XXXIV
Unspoken Eyes and Silent Warnings:
Alex was driving the bus.
The roads were cracked, the sky above us painted in dark gray clouds, and the air was unusually still. Everyone else was either dozing off, looking out the window, or lost in their thoughts. But me? I couldn't relax. Not with Alex behind the wheel.
I didn't know why exactly — maybe it was intuition, maybe it was something deeper — but every time I saw him, every time he came too close or even looked my way, a strange discomfort washed over me.
His behavior? Completely normal.
He helped out. Protected people. Even smiled at times. There was nothing he had done — nothing anyone else had noticed — that could be called wrong.
And yet…
Every time he was around, it felt like the shadows in the corners grew darker. Like his presence brought with it a silence too heavy to be peaceful. An energy that didn't sit right in my bones. Something about him… didn't align.
I tried to ignore it. Maybe it was just the trauma talking. Maybe I was seeing danger where there wasn't any. After everything I'd been through, maybe my mind was just conditioned to expect betrayal.
So I turned away from Alex — pushing the uneasy feeling to the back of my mind — and let my eyes drift across the bus.
And then… they stopped.
Mon.
She was sitting a few rows ahead, close to the window, her face turned halfway toward me.
And she was looking.
No — watching.
Her eyes locked on mine like they had a message to deliver — a message her lips were too scared to say out loud.
Her gaze didn't hold anger. Or jealousy. Or confusion.
It held… longing.
That kind of longing that quietly burns behind a soft stare. That kind of ache that lives in silence when the heart is too proud — or too scared — to speak.
And in that stillness between us, her eyes seemed to whisper words I never thought I'd feel again:
> "I'm starting to be yours…
More than ever before.
And I'm falling for you harder…
Than I ever dared to admit."
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
Because for a moment, nothing else mattered — not the bus, not the danger, not the world collapsing outside.
Just those eyes. And the truth they held.
I had always known Mon was different. I had always known what we had wasn't just friendship — it was something raw, messy, electric.
But now…
Now it felt like something was changing.
She wasn't hiding it anymore.
And as I looked at her — the way her lips parted ever so slightly, the way she quickly turned her face away as if she'd revealed too much — I realized that this journey… wasn't just taking us through broken cities and ruined roads.
It was dragging our hearts into territories we hadn't dared to cross before.
But still, in the back of my mind — beneath the butterflies, behind Mon's silent confession —
that unease about Alex remained.
Like a quiet ticking clock… waiting for something to break.
And I had a feeling.
Something would.
Too much time had passed.
Elisa — sweet, gentle Elisa — could no longer hold it in. Her stomach had been empty for days. Water was scarce, and even when we found it, it was never clean enough. Her body had grown weak, her lips pale, her voice barely a whisper. And now, she sat curled in the corner of the bus, quietly sobbing from hunger and exhaustion.
The sound of her tears wasn't loud.
But it echoed inside every heart.
We were all feeling it — the fatigue, the fear, the overwhelming sense that we were losing more than just the world outside… we were losing parts of ourselves.
Blue, the head of her own team, hadn't said a word in hours. Only four of her people had survived. Just four. The rest — friends, fighters, companions — had all fallen. Her face was tight with grief, lips sealed shut as if even a single word might crack her resolve. Her eyes, usually sharp and commanding, were now glassy. But she refused to let the tears fall. She held them back with a strength that made her cheeks flush red. Her entire face looked like it was burning — not from heat, but from pain.
Aliyana sat nearby, holding a worn-out photograph in her trembling hands. It was her family. Her parents. Smiling, frozen in time. She stared at the image like it was the only thing tethering her to reality — as if by remembering those peaceful moments, she could drown out the chaos happening outside the bus.
Looka was trying to comfort Elisa. He stayed close to her, whispering soft words, holding her hand. But her tears broke him. His eyes brimmed with helplessness. His voice cracked when he said her name. And then… even he began to cry.
There were no words left to offer comfort. Only silence. And pain.
Toward the back of the bus, Mahi and Aarvi held each other tightly. Their embrace wasn't just of love — it was of desperation. Of fear. They didn't say much — they didn't need to. Because both knew deep down… they might not have much time left.
Who knew how many more days — or even hours — they'd get to spend together?
Who knew if there would ever be a morning after this endless Zombie Night?
I looked around at all of them — my people, my fighters, my friends. And I saw so much emotion… so much raw humanity.
And then…
Mon.
She wasn't crying. She wasn't trembling. She wasn't speaking.
But her eyes…
They spoke to me louder than words ever could.
They kept finding mine through the dim bus light. And when they did, it was like the whole world melted away. Like her gaze was holding me up, whispering to me:
> "Maybe we were never friends.
And maybe we never confessed we were lovers.
But even if we never gave it a name…
Don't let my silence convince you I don't care."
"Even in my silence — I choose you."
Her eyes were poetry. And I read every line in them.
Evelyn sat near the window, her gaze locked onto the world outside — though what she was really looking at, none of us knew. Maybe she was watching the flames devour what remained of the city. Maybe she was waiting for this nightmare to end. Or maybe… she just couldn't bear to look at any of us anymore, afraid of what might happen next.
And Alex…
Alex was quiet. Focused. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, but not just from the effort of driving. His jaw was clenched. And though his eyes stared ahead at the road, I noticed something else.
A photograph.
Tucked into the dashboard — someone he once loved. Someone he had lost. Maybe a sister. A mother. A daughter. The sorrow on his face was subtle, but it was there — etched into every line of him like a shadow he couldn't outrun.
And still, he kept driving.
Careful. Determined. Like he was the only one left holding us together — or at least pretending to.
The atmosphere in that bus wasn't just sad.
It was shattered.
The entire city outside was burning. Smoke curled into the skies. Flames danced across broken buildings. There were no sirens anymore. No rescue helicopters. No signals.
No hope.
Not even the special forces — who once swore to protect us — were anywhere in sight. Communication was dead. Our radios were silent. Our phones useless.
We were truly alone now.
Alone with our hunger, our grief, our regrets… and the weight of unspoken love.
But even in all that despair…
We kept moving.
Because somehow — against all odds — we still had one another.
And sometimes, that's the only reason we need to survive.
To be continue....