The buzzer stayed quiet after that.
Rosie didn't try again. At least not with words.
They stood outside for a while — arguing, gesturing, trying the side panel and freight entry. Jules muted the feed, but we watched them move like wolves circling a pen. Eventually, Brent spat on the sidewalk and stalked off. Rosie lingered a second longer before turning away, her expression unreadable behind streaks of rain and warped glass.
When they were gone, it still didn't feel like we could exhale.
The silence was too full. I should've felt something I think, watching the woman I'd dated for six months walk out into danger, but the dreams had purged all feelings I had for her. A horrifying clarity.
I looked around the room — Boris double-checking the animal feed storage, Jessi slowly unpacking the last crate of medical supplies, Luna curled against Houdini on the rug like they'd been littermates their whole lives.
Only Jules moved like nothing happened. She set her coffee on the control table and started unrolling more wire diagrams.
"You did good," she said without looking at me. "Clean deflect. Clean lockout."
"They'll try again."
"Let them. The glass will hold."
I leaned against the frame of the door and crossed my arms.
"Hey. I followed through on the weapons room. Your recommendation."
That got her attention.
She turned, one brow raised.
"The press?"
"Got it. Plus enough brass and powder to stock a militia."
"Smart boy," she said, and turned back to her diagrams like it was just a Tuesday.
I watched her — hair in her eyes, shirt half-untucked, already marking power grid extensions on the blueprint.
She hadn't flinched. Not once. Not when I told her the dream. Not when I told her Rosie would come. Not when I said the world was ending.
She didn't try to talk me down. She handed me a gear list.
God, I thought, what would I have done if she'd said no?
There are people who wait for proof.
And then there are people like Jules.
The ones who build.
--
The rain had faded to a whisper, more mist than downpour, beading soft against the bulletproof dome of the greenhouse. It was nearly dusk — the sky brushed in steel and plum, city lights flickering below like someone hadn't told the grid the world was ending.
Jules and I sat on the rooftop ledge, hoodies pulled tight, boots wet from the puddles that gathered in the corners. Luna slept curled beneath my legs. Houdini sat between us like Switzerland.
The silence was comfortable.
Jules sipped the tea I made — something herbal from the garden. She hated it. Didn't say a word.
I tapped my tablet. The spreadsheet lit up.
"We've still got gaps," I murmured. "Only two months' worth of rice left in reserve storage. Powdered milk's low. Still waiting on the iodine tablets, the full-spectrum antibiotics, and one of the deep freezers got delayed in customs."
"We'll need more calcium carbonate," she said without looking. "For water purification. The pH balance on rooftop runoff is still too soft. Not dangerous, but not sustainable."
"I'll add it to the next requisition."
We watched a pigeon land on the far antenna and instantly regret its decision. A hawk dove out of nowhere, scattering it. The city didn't forgive hesitation.
"Any word on the rooftop security cameras?" I asked.
"Installed tomorrow. With the motion-sensor upgrade you ordered."
"Good."
She leaned back on her palms, eyes scanning the glass dome.
"You know, the solar glaze on the glass? That was a smart call."
"Yours."
"Still. Having every surface of this place pulling sunlight? That's going to be a boon when it gets bad. We'll outlast half the province before the lights even flicker."
The pride in her voice was subtle — more math than ego.
I exhaled, watching condensation fog the tablet screen.
"Feels like we've done everything we can."
Jules didn't answer right away. She just looked out over the city.
"We haven't done everything. But we've done enough to earn a little silence."
And we sat there, in that earned silence — surrounded by glass, grit, and the strange comfort of someone who never needed convincing.
"I'm grateful for you, you know."
She didn't reply, but she took a sip of the tea.