3

Camila didn’t know where she was going.

Lately, she’d felt lost all the time. The only thing she was certain about was that she wanted to escape that house. As long as she didn’t have to go back, she didn’t care where she ended up. Even sleeping under an overpass would’ve been fine.

She ran forward aimlessly.

Rainwater had pooled everywhere after the storm. Her white sneakers splashed through puddles, dirty water soaking her socks and speckling her calves.

She’d already pulled her school uniform skirt back down to its normal length. Earlier, she’d hiked it up on purpose when she went to the police station, just to provoke the officers.

But now it was late at night. It had just rained, and the air was cool. There was no point dressing like that anymore.

She slowed, bending over with her hands braced on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

When her eyes fell on the injuries on her wrists and knees, she immediately thought of the ruthless Officer Flores.

She bit her lip hard, straightened up again, and kept walking, wondering where she could stay for the night.

She had less than a hundred dollars on her. Maybe it was enough to find some rundown motel.

After walking a few more yards, she noticed a familiar silhouette ahead in the distance. Her steps instinctively quieted. She followed for a bit, then moved closer and took a better look.

It was Asher.

‘That annoying cop.’ she thought.

Her gaze dropped to the still-bleeding scrape on her wrist. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like going to a motel anymore.

Instead, she kept her distance and followed him quietly all the way into an older apartment complex.

Compared to Camila’s home, the place looked worn down and outdated. But the location was good, so the property prices weren’t cheap.

She watched his tall figure enter one of the ground-floor units.

Hiding in the shadows, she peeked over and saw him unlock the door on the right side of the first floor.

Her eyes flicked to the window.

Since a cop lived there, maybe he wasn’t worried about burglars, because there were no security bars installed.

Not only that… After Asher went inside, he even opened the window.

Camila’s eyes lit with a mischievous glint.

Driven by a mix of revenge and curiosity, she crept over. She stepped onto some stacked debris beneath the window, lifted herself up, and peeked inside.

She didn’t see him anywhere.

Seizing the opportunity, she swung one leg over and climbed in. But just as her feet touched the floor, while her hands were still gripping the window frame, 

A voice sounded behind her.

“So it’s you.”

Camila frowned and turned her head.

The window was at the corner of the living room. She hadn’t seen him there earlier, but now he was standing near the doorway.

Clearly, he’d noticed someone following him a long time ago. Opening the window had just been bait, to see if the person would take it.

And if they did, he’d know exactly who it was.

“Damn cop.” she whispered.

Since she’d already been caught, there was no point pretending anymore.

Camila straightened up and said flatly, “Breaking and entering… Are you going to arrest me now?”

She stretched both hands out toward him.

“Perfect. I was just worrying about where to stay tonight. Go ahead, cuff me.” She even smiled, eyes full of defiance, her face practically glowing with satisfaction.

Most people didn’t look like that when they were about to be arrested. Being unafraid was one thing, being this happy made her look almost unhinged.

Asher didn’t respond. He simply turned and walked out of the living room.

Camila blinked, confused. No handcuffs came. All she saw was his indifferent back. She snapped out of it and hurried after him.

The apartment wasn’t big. Both bedrooms combined weren’t even as large as her own room back home.

She looked around and didn’t see him, until she noticed the only closed door. After a short wait, it opened. Asher stepped out, already changed.

He was wearing a fitted black wrinkle-free shirt and matching dark trousers. His short hair was neat, his face freshly washed. Every movement carried the clean, composed charm of a mature man.

Camila’s heartbeat skipped. She unconsciously took a step back.

He wasn’t empty-handed either. In his right hand, he carried a medical kit. He sat down on a chair, placed the kit on the table, opened it, and took out antiseptic, cotton swabs, and gauze.

‘What was he doing?’ Camila asked in her mind.

Camila immediately thought of her injured wrist and knee. Instinctively, she hid her hands behind her back.

Right then, Asher looked up at her. He gestured to the chair beside him.

“Sit.”

Camila froze. “What are you doing?”

Asher carried the quiet authority that came with being a cop. Even the slightest furrow of his brow made it hard for people to argue with him.

“If that cut on your wrist isn’t treated, how are you going to school tomorrow?”

The word felt like a joke to her.

She hadn’t been to class in a long time. It was already her senior year of high school. Everyone else was stressed about exams and college applications, but she couldn’t focus on textbooks even if she tried. She’d been skipping for months. By now she was so far behind that catching up felt impossible. College was out of the question.

For her, what was the point of going back? It was too late to fix anything. So she didn’t care about her injuries. And she definitely didn’t want kindness from a cop she despised.

“Since you’re not planning to arrest me, I’ll leave.” Camila shot him one last look, then stepped past him toward the door.

But just as she moved by, he grabbed her injured wrist with precise timing.

Pain shot through her arm. She glared at him furiously.

Asher seemed used to that look. He didn’t even react. Without a word, he pulled her to the chair across from him, released her wrist, and began treating the wound.

Camila was forced to sit there. She stared at his hand, the same hand that had grabbed her earlier. There was still blood smeared across his palm.

Her vision shifted. Suddenly she wasn’t in his apartment anymore.

She saw her mother falling from the upstairs balcony again, heard the sickening impact, saw the spreading pool of red, Camila screamed.

She jumped up and stumbled into the corner of the living room, crouching down and covering her face.

Asher watched, startled, as the girl who had been so defiant seconds ago collapsed in fear. She trembled in the corner, whispering something over and over.

He stepped closer and listened.

“…blood… so much blood…”

He glanced around the room instinctively, then at himself. There was no blood anywhere except on his own hand.

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his palm clean. Then he crouched in front of her and spoke quietly.

“There’s no blood.”

Camila’s shaking eased a little. Slowly, cautiously, she looked up.

Her eyes fell on his clean hand. He’d wiped it off.

Truthfully, the sight of blood didn’t always trigger her like this. If it did, she would’ve panicked the moment she got hurt earlier.

There was no pattern to when the memories of her mother surfaced. But whenever they did, nothing good followed.

Eventually, Asher finished bandaging her wrist.

The injury had been caused by him. It was only right he handled it from start to finish.

Camila sat there silently.

She’d been caught in the rain earlier. Her clothes were still soaked, she’d run out after a huge fight with her father and hadn’t even stopped to change. She was still wearing her wet school uniform.

The cold was starting to seep into her bones. Every so often, her body shivered uncontrollably. If this kept up, she’d definitely wake up with a fever.

She couldn’t afford to get sick.

If she got sick, she wouldn’t have the strength to keep fighting… wouldn’t have the energy to make life miserable for the disgusting couple at home, or for those self-righteous cops she hated.

She is remembering something that if she got seriously ill… if her life was actually in danger… 

‘Wouldn’t that be exactly what that woman wanted? If I died too, that woman could take everything that should’ve belonged to my mother without guilt. No. Absolutely not.’ she said in her mind.

Hatred steadied her.

Camila wiped her nose, stood up, and looked around the apartment.

Asher had gone into the kitchen after bandaging her wrist. She was alone in the living room.

Her gaze drifted to the bedroom where he’d changed earlier. Then she looked down at her soaked clothes. Without hesitation, she walked in.

When Asher came out of the kitchen, the living room was empty.

His bedroom door was closed. He leaned against the wall and waited patiently.

A few minutes later, the door opened. Camila stepped out. She’d taken off her soaked school uniform and changed into something that Asher wound’t allowed of.

His expression darkened instantly.

“Who told you to wear that?” His voice turned cold as he straightened. “Take it off.”

She is wearing his police uniform.

The thrill of getting under his skin made Camila laugh from the bottom of her heart. She looked like a smug little devil.

Raising a thin eyebrow, she said casually, “Are you sure you want me to take it off?”

The answer was obvious.

Police uniforms were treated with respect, almost sacred. An officer might remove his jacket to shield a victim in an emergency, but Camila wasn’t in danger now.

Not even close.

If Camila wanted to change clothes, there were plenty of casual outfits in the closet she could’ve worn.

The only thing Camila wants is revenge by wearing Asher’s police uniform. She wanted to get under his skin.

Asher was sharp, he saw right through her. Her thoughts were simple, childish, and a little cruel. But even knowing that, he still had to stop this.

His dark eyes fixed on her as he spoke, slow and firm.

“Take it off. Right now.” It was a warning.

When Asher warned someone, it wasn’t just his words, it was his presence. His gaze carried authority, his posture rigid, disciplined. He wasn’t just handsome, there was something restrained about him, an almost ascetic seriousness that made people instinctively behave.

Camila’s smile only widened.

Girls her age could be vicious in the most innocent ways, smiling sweetly while doing exactly what you didn’t expect. And what she did next genuinely caught Asher off guard.

He’d never met a girl like her. So reckless. So deliberately self-destructive.

He told her to take off the uniform, so she started taking off her clothes right in front of him.

She began unbuttoning the shirt one button at a time, slow, deliberate, like she was testing his limits. Asher’s eyes widened before he could stop himself. He snapped back to his senses and tried to look away, 

But she’d already yanked the loose shirt off without hesitation.

The next second, the bedroom door slammed shut in her face.

Asher had shoved her inside and locked the door.

Camila stumbled back. The door had closed so fast she’d nearly hit her nose. The sting made her eyes water.

Outside, Asher leaned against the wall. He lit a cigarette with steady hands and spoke through the door.

“I’m taking you to school tomorrow morning. Don’t let me see you trying to provoke me again tonight.”

From inside, she shot back loudly, “What if I want to provoke you?”

She expected him to threaten arrest.

Instead, he said calmly, “Try it one more time, and I’ll send you home.”

He was too perceptive. He’d figured out instantly what would truly scare her.

Camila leaned her back against the door and slowly lowered her head.

Summer in this part of California came early. After a night of heavy rain, the temperature climbed fast by morning.

Camila had been locked in Asher’s bedroom all night. When she tried the door earlier, she realized he’d locked it from the outside.

She even considered climbing out the window, only to find it sealed shut.

“Freaking pervert,” she muttered under her breath.

“The living room windows were open, but the bedroom window was sealed tight. What kind of logic was that?” she asked herself.

He finally unlocked the door at six in the morning.

Camila bolted out and straight into the bathroom. She’d held it all night, her bladder felt like it was about to explode.

Asher glanced at the bathroom door that slammed shut, then turned and walked into his bedroom.

He picked up her school uniform from the chair. After hanging overnight, it was mostly dry, but still a little damp.

When Camila came out of the bathroom, she froze.

On the small balcony, Asher stood with his back to her, hanging her uniform on a hanger. In one hand, he held a hair dryer, carefully blowing warm air over the fabric to finish drying it.

Camila bit her lip. For a moment, his figure overlapped with a memory of her mother.

Back when she was healthy… her mom used to dry her school uniform in the mornings too.

Tears welled up before she realized it.

The man on the balcony heard the movement and turned around.

Morning sunlight poured in behind him. He stood just a few steps away, expression calm, distant as ever, but somehow, the sight of him made warmth spread slowly through her chest.

‘Thank you.’ She said it silently in her heart.

But she would never say it out loud. She hated the police.

Hated how they never listened to her. Hated how they never arrested that woman for questioning. So even with Asher… she hated him too.

She stood there as he walked over and handed her the now-dry, warm uniform.

“Change. I’ll take you to school.” He said it casually, already pulling his hand back to leave.

But Camila’s gaze stayed fixed on his wrist, the one holding her uniform moments earlier.

Force worked both ways.

When she’d twisted his wrist in the handcuffs before, the person on the other end wouldn’t have come out unscathed.

His wrist was injured too. But unlike hers, it clearly hadn’t been treated. After a whole night, the swelling hadn’t gone down. The skin was rubbed raw, lightly scabbed over.

Camila stared at it, stunned. For the first time, she didn’t know what to say… or what to do.