Thomas

In one of the Glade's dark corners, where the maze cast long shadows, Michelle often sat on an old crate, peering into the passageway where the Runners returned. Thomas always led the way—serious, collected, with a watchful gaze. He was Minho's right-hand man, and everyone knew that if Thomas was nearby, everything was under control.

One day, after a particularly difficult day, when the labyrinth seemed to come alive and refused to let go of its captives, Michelle noticed Thomas leaning wearily against the wall. She approached him and quietly asked:

• How are you?

Thomas looked up, and his stern face softened for a moment. He smiled—just a little, just for her.

— I'm holding on. Minho says we'll go again tomorrow. We need to find a way out.

Michelle nodded but didn't leave. She handed him a flask of water and stayed by his side while he drank. In that moment, something more than just friendship passed between them: in a world where every day could be their last, such moments were especially precious.

Thomas looked at her with gratitude and seriousness, but there was also a hint of tenderness in his gaze. He knew that as long as Michelle was near, he had something worth returning to from the labyrinth for again and again.