18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 596

Dylan had played out the scene in his mind a thousand times, imagining the moment he'd reunite with Rosie and finally confess his feelings.

With a sensitivity typical of kids on the autism spectrum, Dylan had harbored a crush on Rosie for as long as he could remember. It was love at first sight, an unexplainable urge to be near her. She was spotless and adorable, like a porcelain doll, her bright eyes sparkling as if they could speak. And when she smiled, it was like the first breath of spring, a snowflake melting into the promise of blooming flowers.

The urge to overcome his fears and slowly get closer to her was irresistible. But the closer he got, the more he wanted. He yearned to be with her, in the forever kind of way. Deep down, Dylan knew the gap between them was vast, so he worked tirelessly, hoping for a fresh start when they met again.

The thought of rejection crossed his mind, but he quickly pushed it aside. Yet reality can be cruel, and fears often come true. Rosie did turn him down.

Facing his heartfelt confession, Rosie felt a pang of panic but masked it with a calm front. "Because... you've always been like a big brother to me," she said, leaving no room for doubt. "Dylan, I love Griffith. This is my home, where I plan to realize my dreams and work hard for them. I can't leave, and I hope you'll find happiness in Willowbrook too."

She had never experienced love herself but had seen too many couples turn on each other, sometimes over something as trivial as a meal. In times of disaster, most relationships crumbled to nothing, their value a cruel joke. Sometimes she envied her brother and sister-in-law's bond, knowing such unions were rare. She was content with her life and unwilling to gamble on change. Knowing Dylan was doing well was enough for her.

Yet, the goodbye was tinged with melancholy, and she offered sincerely, "You're leaving tomorrow, why don't I see you off?"

Dylan's mouth filled with the bitter taste of unfulfilled dreams, but he didn't argue. "Okay."

Relieved, Rosie couldn't shake off a vague sense of loss as they walked silently, the moonlight guiding their path to a quiet road. Dylan walked slowly, but before long, they were at his front door. Rosie put on a brave smile, "Big brother Dylan, this is my stop. You should head back."

He nodded, "Yeah, I'll watch you go in."

She waved and closed the gate behind her. Dylan stared at the closed door, his heart heavy with sorrow. He had always been light-years away from Rosie, no matter how hard he tried, he could never bridge the distance.

On the other side of the door, Rosie snapped back to reality as her dogs came bounding up, their howls breaking the silence. "Ow-ow-ow." "Arf-arf-arf." Shaking off the last traces of sadness, Rosie turned with a smile and walked inside. Her brother and sister-in-law were still awake, having prepared a comforting bowl of chicken noodle soup just for her. She brushed aside the faint sadness in her mind and greeted them cheerfully, "I'm back."

Stella, ever the caring one, said, "Work's never done, is it? Delegate what you can and take care of yourself."

After washing up, Rosie sat down with her bowl of soup and started chatting, "Sis, Dylan's leaving tomorrow, what should I give him as a farewell gift?"

It seemed the strategist coveted the specialized salvage team. Unable to entice them away, sharing in their success was the next best thing. The strategist's efforts were understandable, but it remained to be seen if Griffith's military would agree.

With others to carry the burden, Stella slept soundly until morning. The higher-ups held military talks in the morning, and the delegation prepared to leave in the afternoon. Colonel Jasper, due to his rank, was summoned by Reagan to attend the meeting.

Before heading to work, Daniel reminded Stella, "Join me this afternoon to see off your Uncle Qin." Stella had no objections and readily agreed. Stella had become godmother to Rosie's kids; it was a bond not taken lightly. It called for a visit, with gifts in tow, honoring the connection they shared.

The moth infestation had worn her out. Stella wolfed down her breakfast and retreated for a power nap, then got busy assembling several presents. The high-level meeting dragged on until 2 p.m. Griffith hosted a farewell feast for the distinguished guests before escorting the delegation to the harbor.

Rosie mulled over her dilemma. The crops from the farm wouldn't keep, and by the time the submarine docked back at Willowbrook, they'd be spoiled goods. She recalled how Uncle Qin and he relished a good hot pot, so she busied herself preparing the spicy broth base, decanting it into several large Mason jars, and packing them neatly in canvas bags.

Everything that needed to be said had been, this encounter was likely their last. Rosie felt a pang of sorrow; this was her one true friend. But in this apocalyptic world, she was one of the lucky ones. Most survivors had lost family; the luxury of friendship was even scarcer.

Stella drove Rosie to the docks. Aside from the military brass, the rest of the visiting party were already at the harbor. Stella weaved through the crowd and spotted Collin, "Dr. Collin." She had prepared a hefty package: summer tees, a winter parka, tea, sugar, ginseng, and a few smoked chickens and ducks. Collin was at a loss for words...