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Paris, France. February 2036.

   One week had passed since Wilfred and Nadine had met. They could already see Paris in the distance, but night was approaching. They found a barn near the road, where they took refuge, huddling together with the straw to keep warm. They stayed close to the road to avoid getting lost but not too close to become an easy target.

   Both were huddled in silence, Nadine believed the little one was asleep. She couldn't sleep, she was terrified at the prospect of entering Paris. It was madness, but it was the only option. Thinking about it, she realized that a week ago they hadn't felt in danger; their only inconvenience had been the lack of food. The drowned saw them from afar and ignored them. She still didn't understand if that was good or bad... There were only two options: either the disease mutated again, or for some reason there was something preventing them from being attacked.

   Wilfred's stomach growled as it always did. He curled up and sobbed. Seconds later, he ran to a corner of the barn, expelling from his mouth what little was in his stomach, which looked just as unpleasant as when it was ingested. The girl sat up, propping the weight of her body on her elbows, and watched him sorrowfully. She knew he preferred not to be touched when he was like this. Later, he would always come seeking comfort.

   In silence, he nestled into Nadine's arms, trembling, yet his body felt warm. He had been food poisoned before they even met, the symptoms were getting worse. She did everything she could, giving him the best food available, but none of it was truly in good condition.

   Nadine hardly ate, she felt like her organs were crushed. She couldn't understand how she was still alive, they needed urgent help. That's where Paris came in. In every major city there were refugee centers where they treated the injured before transferring them to the main shelter. Only the most vulnerable were taken there. The rest received all the necessary information to travel. Unfortunately, the resources were not sufficient to accommodate everyone. However, once there, everyone was welcome.

   Few succeeded; it was a long and dangerous journey.

   The headquarters were located all over the world, but they were just waypoints. The main refuge was the final destination. Nadine didn't know where it was; there were only small rumors. Information wasn't as readily available as it used to be. It all started with Finland and Iceland, then Norway, Denmark, and Sweden joined. These five countries pooled their knowledge, resources, and volunteers to form a global organization they called Pangea.

   The countries that could contribute did so, as they were all chasing after the same destination: that safe place. However, politicians, wealthy individuals, or those with significant power disappeared. There had been no further word of them; rumors suggested they had their private hideaways to which they fled when they realized that their power couldn't help them.

   "Nadine... Is it much longer until we find help?" sighed Wilfred. "I'm very tided..."

   "Tomorrow afternoon we'll already be in the city. We'll have to move slowly and very carefully," she replied, gently stroking the child's hair. "It's dangerous, but all we have to do is find the signs, the signals that will lead us to the direction of the shelter."

Paris, France. February 2035.

   Nadine tried to focus on her classes, but knowing that her family was likely in danger made it nearly impossible. She talked to them every day via video call and exchanged text messages constantly with Triana. That day, they had agreed to videochat for breakfast. Nadine had been in front of her computer for half an hour with breakfast ready but untouched, waiting for the agreed-upon time.

   At ten o'clock, she clicked to start the call. It rang once, and just as it was about to ring for the second time, her mother answered.

   "Hello, darling!" she said as she adjusted the camera. She wasn't clearly visible due to the poor reception they had in the countryside, but it was distinguishable that she was under the oak tree where they used to have lunch together. They could see rays of light piercing through the branches, illuminating the leaves.

   "Mom, I can't see you well. Lower the camera a bit; I can barely see your forehead," Nadine chuckled.

   "Maureen, dear, put the phone here in the shade. So much light is making it hard to see," Destan, her father, was heard saying.

   Off-screen, her three sibilings could be heard arguing about the correct position for the phone.

   After three long minutes, the phone was placed in the center of the table, the family crowded at one end, the French oak tree in the background. While her family struggled to settle on the bench, the young woman felt lonelier than ever. She missed them too much; she had never been apart from them, and the thought of something happening to them terrified her.

   "Now we go," said her sister Triana. "Can you see all of us well?"

   "You look a little disheveled."

   "Very funny," she teased.

   Joalí burst into a loud, hearty laughter.

   "Nadi has a masterpiece!" shouted her younger brother enthusiastically. Irving recognized his sister's fantasy sketches anywhere, but he had never seen one like this before. It reminded him of paintings in museums.

   Nadine turned around, and hanging on the wall was the Christmas gift Antonia had given her – the sketch she had been working on when they decided to spend Christmas together. Antonia had secretly taken it to create an oil painting almost as tall as herself. Among the branches of a monstrously large French oak tree, one could observe a three-story house with windows of various sizes and shapes, swings everywhere, and more balconies than one could count.
   She had used absolutely every color she had, making sure not to use the correct ones. The sky was green, the leaves blue, the wood pink – the result was impressive. Antonia had planted each of her feelings in that painting.

   Since that Christmas, the relationship between the two friends had never been the same.

   "Yes, Irving, it's definitely a work of art," said Nadine dreamily.

   "How's Antonia?" both parents asked in unison, then chuckled at the coincidence.

   "She's doing well. How about you guys?" The young woman's evasion didn't go unnoticed. She knew her parents were concerned about that relationship, fearing their daughter would get hurt. They had witnessed their relationship firsthand. Their concern heightened when Antonia visited them for Christmas. More than once, their daughter had tried to explain how their friendship worked, but her parents could only see a love of toxic nature... they feared for their daughter's heart.

   Both insisted they were just friends.

   The video call lasted almost three hours. Nadine said goodbye with a heavy heart. Nothing refreshed her more than talking to her family, nothing hurt her more than saying goodbye. But she had to go to class, and in the evening, she would go out with Antonia.

Paris, France. February 2036.

   Their daily walk had started almost four hours ago, and they were already on the outskirts of the city. They moved as slowly as possible to avoid attracting anyone's attention.

   The city lay devastated, barely recognizable after just a year. Colors had faded away, everything appeared gray, neglected, forgotten. Tattered awnings hung over shopfronts, victim to the harsh sun. Balcony planters overflowed with withered plants. Little could be seen through the dusty windows, doors torn from their frames. Everywhere exuded a sense of sadness.

   Nadine remembered the chaos in the city; the destruction came afterward.

   The strangest thing of all were the people. There they were, walking around distractedly, cleaning, searching for food, even engaging in trivial conversations. From a distance, terror seized the girl, she thought she had stumbled upon a horde of drowned. But nothing could be further from the truth.

   Survivors, continuing with their lives as best they could. It wasn't easy. You could read it in their faces, in their wounds, and in the slowness of their movements. Hope remained there, driving them forward and allowing them to face each day with courage. That courage illuminated the path hand in hand with their friend fear because to fear is human.

   Nadine and Wilfred stood hand in hand at the end of the street, watching the people, paralyzed.

   "Don't fear fear, my child... Those who fear have something to lose."

   Her mother's words echoed in her head. She could almost feel the touch of her hands on her cheeks and her kiss on her forehead.

   "Those who have nothing to lose have nothing to love. Fear without fear, for fear is clever, and courage will come on its own." They were in the train compartment, surrounded by Nadine's suitcases, on their way to her new life as a university student.

   The young woman set aside her nostalgia, lowered her gaze to the little one, who was tightly hugging his plush crab. He looked up at her and smiled. Together, they began to walk.

   People glanced at them for a moment before continuing with their tasks. As they moved forward, the young woman noticed the corpses that had gone unnoticed at first glance. Bodies of the drowned or victims of the same fate were scattered everywhere. In response, she picked up the child to carry him in her arms. Gently, she placed Wilfred's face against her chest, shielding him from the sight of the dismembered bodies. The child, obediently, stayed in that position while sweetly playing with his protector's hair and swinging his feet.

   After forty minutes of walking, they saw the first sign. It was a torn-out page from a school notebook, with blurry pencil-written mathematical formulas. On top, in childlike handwriting with a black marker, the following could be read:

   "We can help you," Nadine read with relief.

   The same text was written in different languages, surrounded by small drawings of smiles, trees, rainbows, and little animals. Most of the signs had spelling mistakes that had been corrected.

   Without wasting any time, she headed there. She wouldn't arrive before nightfall, but she knew the location; anyone who had visited Paris knew where to go.

Paris, France. February 2035.

   It was already pitch-black night, the sky filled with stars. In the distance, threatening clouds could be seen. The cold penetrated to the bones, but it hadn't snowed for two days. Nadine and Antonia took advantage of the opportunity to go out and relax, a habit Nadine had cultivated thanks to her companion. She felt much better; it helped her forget, at least for a few hours, all the worries that gnawed at her heart and mind.

   Music resonated from a small portable speaker. Antonia leaned against the bathroom mirror, her breath fogging it up as she perfected her makeup. She had quite a bit of experience with makeup; she liked to let her imagination run wild. That night, she had drawn small daisies at the corners of each of her eyes. Her copper-colored dress hugged her attractive body perfectly.

   Giving herself one last look, she tousled her hair. She smiled, grabbed her makeup, and danced her way to the room, moving to the rhythm of the song. She stopped and looked at her roommate, whose attractiveness took her by surprise and confused her. Nervousness seized her chest.

   Standing by her desk, Nadine finished buttoning up her burgundy shirt. She couldn't make up her mind: she kept buttoning and unbuttoning the third button over and over again. She quite liked how it looked when it was open, but it felt too daring. With a frustrated sigh, she decided to leave just two buttons undone. The idea still lingered in her head, but she felt Antonia's gaze on her and it made her nervous.

   She turned around and looked into Antonia's eyes. Antonia, trying to conceal her feelings, picked up the glass from her desk and took a big sip, finishing the rum and soda they had prepared together. It was already starting to take effect on both of them.

   "Ready? Shall we go?" Nadine asked.

  In response, Antonia held up a liquid eyeliner in the same color as her friend's shirt, with a mischievous smile and a teasing look, she asked:

   "May I?"

   Silently, the girl nodded, feeling nervous about her friend's behavior. Whenever Antonia was drunk, she tended to flirt with her in a very brazen way... but this time, Nadine wasn't sober either.

   A hoarse-voiced woman sang over the speaker, the band sounding as if they were pouring their lives into that final chorus. It was one of Antonia's favorite songs; she was fascinated by movie soundtracks, from animated films to the most gritty dramas. An obsession that had started in her adolescence when she attended dramatic theater classes.

   As she turned up the volume of the music, she approached Nadine. Gently, she made her sit on the bed, then she sat on her lap and leaned in close to her face. With her right hand, she held her chin, while with the other, she began to apply eyeliner to her eyes.

   The makeup felt cold against her skin, but Antonia's hands were warm. Nadine breathed deeply, trying to keep her composure and focus. She could feel her cheeks burning. Her eyes remained closed, so she couldn't see her companion.

   "Done, let me see," Antonia whispered after gently blowing on the makeup to help it dry.

   In response, Nadine opened her eyes, and upon seeing the result, Antonia smiled in satisfaction. For a moment, she glanced at Nadine's lips before returning her gaze to her eyes. Nadine's hands timidly rested on her thighs.

   Slowly, with a graceful movement, Antonia unbuttoned that third button of the shirt.

   The music stopped.

   Nadine's breath caught in her throat.

   "I think it looks better this way," Antonia said as she stood up and pretended to search for something in her bag. "Look how pretty we are; I'm sure we'll manage to charm someone at the bar tonight."

   "I guess..." sighed Nadine as she slowly stood up, looking at her companion with coldness. She knew what had just happened. Antonia avoided her gaze and headed for the door.

   Both of their heads were spinning, due to the alcohol, of course...

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