Newt

Evening fell suddenly in the Glade. The stone doors of the Labyrinth closed for the night with a deafening thud, separating the inner courtyard from the outer nightmare. For the Gladers, this meant one thing: the workday was over, they could catch their breath until morning. Mia sat on the edge of the wooden platform near the Plantation, her knees drawn up to her chest. The cool air seeped under her sweater, but she didn't want to go into the stuffy shelter. She simply wanted silence, listening to the crackling fire and watching the sky darken.

"Hiding again?" a familiar voice called. It was Newt, the second-in-command in the Glade, tired but with a warm look in his eyes as he saw Mia.

"I'm not hiding, I'm just breathing," she replied. He took off his jacket and carefully draped it over her shoulders.

“The nights are colder, hold on,” he said tenderly.

"Thank you. When did you last rest?" Mia asked.

“If I stop, everything will turn into chaos,” Newt smiled.

He touched her fingers—warm and rough from work. His support was deeper than friendship, but he was afraid to destroy the fragile peace they had created. They were silent, gazing at the stars.

“You are my moon,” Newt said, looking at her with warmth and sadness.

"Why?" Mia smiled, expecting a joke.

“There are many stars, but only one moon,” he said quietly, taking her hand in his.