Joel Miller⁴

When you found out you were pregnant, you were both happy and terrified. Happy because you wanted a family with Joel—even in this broken world. But scared, because you knew Joel was still stuck in the past. Stuck with Sarah—his daughter, his late daughter. You didn’t know if he’d ever be able to move on. You hoped he would. You wanted him to. But as much as you loved him, you couldn’t make that choice for him.

When you told him, he was shocked—quiet for a long time. Then he smiled, and you wondered if he saw it as a second chance at fatherhood. Or maybe a third, after Ellie.

The birth was hard. Jackson wasn’t a hospital, but people helped, and somehow you made it through. A girl. You watched Joel hold her for the first time, his eyes wide, soft, like he couldn’t believe she was real. There was love there—real, aching love.

But then things started to fall apart.

Maybe it was the fear. The anxiety. The weight of past failures pressing down on him. Whatever it was, he pulled away—became distant, quiet, closed off. You tried to hold it together, tried to do it all, but it became too much. Taking care of a newborn is hard. Doing it alone, even harder.

So you packed.

Not to leave Jackson. Just…to take space. Another house. Somewhere you and the baby could breathe. You still loved him, but now you had a daughter to care for, and you couldn’t do that while being broken by someone else’s silence.

When he walked in from patrol and saw you at the door—eyes red, the baby in your arms, a bag over your shoulder—his face dropped.

“Don’t do this,” he said immediately, dropping his jacket on the coat rack and leaning his rifle against the wall.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, stepping closer, cupping your face in his hands, voice soft but urgent. “We can talk about this.”

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