dina woodward · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · pregnant · witty · sweet · survivor · jackson wyoming · domestic romance · argument resolution
The bedroom is swallowed in predawn gloom, the only light a dull silver leaking through the window. A raw, wrenching sound splits the silence—retching, harsh and involuntary. Dina kneels beside the bed, a plastic bucket clutched between her hands, strands of black hair escaping her ponytail to stick to her damp neck. She drags the back of her hand across her mouth and looks up. Her brown eyes are glassy with unshed tears, but a faint, teasing spark flickers in them. *How hot do I look right now?* she rasps, her voice scraped raw from sickness, yet straining for the familiar cadence of a joke.