The peaceful atmosphere of the mess hall lasted for all of five minutes.

Not because of alarms or an emergency report. Not because another horde had appeared on the horizon or because some distant province had called for help.

It ended because people had eyes.

And because soldiers gossiped.

By the time Adrian and Chandrika finished half their meals, nearly everyone in the mess hall had already noticed them. A group of mechanics sitting three tables away had stopped eating entirely. Two nurses near the serving counter kept glancing over every few seconds. One lieutenant had entered the hall, spotted the pair near the windows, promptly turned around, and left without even getting his food.

Chandrika noticed it first.

She lowered her spoon and looked around. "Why does it feel like we’re being observed?"

"We’re not."

"You said that earlier."

"And I was right."

She stared at him.

A private carrying a tray walked directly into a chair while looking in their direction.

Another soldier nearly dropped his food.

The private recovered, saluted awkwardly, and hurried away as if nothing had happened.

Chandrika slowly turned back toward Adrian.

"I think you’re wrong."

Adrian followed her gaze and sighed.

He was, unfortunately, not wrong.

The entire mess hall abruptly found its food very interesting the moment he looked up.

A few seconds later, someone coughed.

Another person whistled.

Somewhere in the back, a mechanic muttered, "I owe you fifty pesos."

Another voice replied, "Pay up."

Chandrika blinked.

"Are they... betting on something?"

"No."

"They definitely are."

Adrian suddenly wished he had chosen a different table.

Unfortunately, the damage was already done.

A familiar voice interrupted them.

"Commander."

Ryan appeared carrying a tray piled high with food. Rice, grilled fish, fried chicken, soup, fruit, and enough bread to feed three people occupied nearly every inch of the tray.

He looked at Adrian.

Then at Chandrika.

Then back at Adrian.

A smile slowly spread across his face.

"Oh."

Adrian immediately frowned.

"No."

Ryan sat down anyway.

"You know, I was wondering why half the base suddenly knew where you were."

"No, you weren’t."

"I really was."

"You absolutely weren’t."

Ryan ignored him and looked toward Chandrika.

"Hi."

She looked slightly nervous.

"Hello."

"I’m Ryan."

"I know who you are."

His smile widened.

"That’s nice."

A pause followed.

Then—

"So, how’s the date going?"

Adrian nearly choked on his water.

Chandrika almost dropped her spoon.

"What?" both of them said simultaneously.

Ryan looked confused.

"Oh. Was I not supposed to say that?"

"This isn’t a date," Adrian said.

Chandrika nodded so quickly that her glasses nearly fell off.

"Y-Yes. It’s not."

Ryan looked between them.

"You two are having lunch."

"Yes."

"Alone."

"...Yes."

"You specifically invited her."

Adrian paused.

"...Yes."

Ryan pointed at the table.

"That’s called a date."

"No."

"It literally is."

"It isn’t."

Ryan looked toward Chandrika.

"Miss Chandrika, what do you call this?"

She froze.

Because, honestly?

She had no idea.

She looked at Adrian.

He looked at her.

For some reason, that made her even more flustered.

"I-I don’t know."

Ryan looked victorious.

"Aha."

"Aha what?" Adrian asked.

"Neither of you knows."

"That doesn’t prove anything."

"It proves everything."

Chandrika’s face was red now.

Actually red.

She adjusted her glasses in an attempt to compose herself.

It didn’t work.

Ryan looked far too pleased with himself.

A nearby table had begun openly listening.

One nurse looked as though she had just discovered her favorite television series.

A sergeant had stopped eating completely.

The entire mess hall felt like it was one sentence away from erupting.

Fortunately, Adrian changed the subject.

"You should be resting."

Ryan blinked.

"What?"

"You haven’t slept."

"Neither have you."

"I’m working."

"So am I."

"You’re eating."

"I’m multitasking."

Chandrika watched the exchange with interest.

It was... different.

This wasn’t the Commander who gave speeches or directed military operations. This wasn’t the man who coordinated bombers and artillery during the battle for Central Luzon.

This was simply Adrian.

A young man arguing with his friend over lunch.

Ryan seemed to notice her expression.

He grinned.

"What?"

She looked embarrassed.

"Nothing."

"No, there was definitely something."

She hesitated.

Then smiled softly.

"I just thought you’d all be... different."

"Different how?"

She thought about it.

"More serious."

Ryan burst out laughing.

Several nearby tables laughed too.

Adrian sighed.

"I don’t know why that’s funny."

"Because, Commander, I watched you argue with a mechanic for twenty minutes because you insisted an engine noise was normal."

"It was normal."

"The transmission fell off."

"That was unrelated."

Ryan laughed even harder.

To Chandrika’s surprise, she laughed too.

The sound escaped before she could stop it.

Both men looked toward her.

She immediately tried to regain her composure.

Too late.

Ryan smiled.

"There we go."

"What?"

"You laughed."

"I know."

"You looked like you needed one."

Her expression softened.

Because he wasn’t entirely wrong.

The last year had been difficult.

The hotel.

The rescue.

Training.

The battle.

Everything had happened so quickly.

She could not remember the last time she had simply sat down and laughed.

A comfortable silence settled over the table afterward.

Outside the windows, the afternoon sun illuminated the base.

A Black Hawk landed near the airfield. Several soldiers unloaded supplies while nearby civilians walked along the roads carrying groceries and construction materials.

Children rode bicycles near the residential district.

The sight still felt surreal.

Chandrika looked outside.

"I still have trouble believing all this exists."

Adrian followed her gaze.

"It didn’t look like this before."

She looked back.

"No?"

He shook his head.

"When we first came here, it was mostly ruins and empty buildings."

"Really?"

"There weren’t many people."

Ryan snorted.

"We also had less food, less electricity, less water, and significantly more zombies."

"That’s not helping."

"I’m providing historical context."

Chandrika smiled.

She could imagine it.

A small group of survivors trying to build something from nothing.

A few tents.

Some walls.

A handful of soldiers.

And somehow, over the course of a year, it had become this.

A city.

A home.

Hope.

She looked toward Adrian.

"You really built all this."

He was quiet for a moment.

Then he shook his head.

"No."

She blinked.

"No?"

"We all did."

His gaze moved toward the windows.

Toward the people.

"The soldiers."

"The mechanics."

"The doctors."

"The teachers."

"The farmers."

"The survivors."

"Everyone."

His answer reminded her of something he had said to Doctor Lin aboard the ship.

We built it.

Not I.

We.

She smiled.

For some reason, that answer suited him.

A siren suddenly sounded in the distance.

The entire mess hall froze.

Years of survival had conditioned everyone.

Heads turned toward the windows.

Conversations died.

Hands instinctively moved toward radios and weapons.

Three seconds later, the all-clear tone followed.

The hall collectively exhaled.

A mechanic laughed nervously.

"Maintenance test."

Several people groaned.

Ryan looked offended.

"I hate that sound."

"So does everyone else," Adrian said.

Chandrika laughed again.

And for the first time since arriving in Basa, she realized something.

She wasn’t merely surviving anymore.

She was living.

The thought made her smile.

Across the table, Adrian noticed.

He didn’t say anything.

But somehow, seeing that expression on her face made the exhaustion from the past twenty-four hours feel a little lighter.

Outside, the afternoon continued peacefully.

Inside the mess hall, lunch went on.

And for a little while, in a world filled with infected, ruined cities, and endless battles, three people simply sat together and enjoyed a quiet meal.