LOGINErik Pov.I shouldn't have come this early.I've been sitting in the parking lot for twenty minutes already, the engine off, windows cracked, just watching the entrance of the campus like I’m staking it out.Which, in a way, I guess I am.Old habits die hard.But it’s not a suspect I’m watching for—it's her.I drum my fingers against the steering wheel and glance at the dashboard clock for the fifth time in three minutes. The air is warm with spring, the kind that makes you restless without knowing why. I’d told myself I had things to do—paperwork to finish, errands to run—but the truth is, I didn’t want to be anywhere else.I wanted to be here. Waiting for Kim.What the hell is happening to me?I’m a grown man, a detective, not some teenage boy losing sleep over a girl’s smile. And yet... I can’t get this morning out of my head.The feel of her mouth under mine.Soft. Warm. Familiar.The sound she made when I kissed her. The way she leaned into me like she’d been holding her breath f
Erik Pov.This morning, when Kim slipped on her jacket and slung her bag over her shoulder, I didn’t hesitate.“I’m driving you.”She raised an eyebrow, half-smiling. “You don’t have to.”I shrugged, grabbing my keys. “I want to.”I didn’t say the rest out loud: that I missed doing the small things for her, that I missed watching her from the driver’s seat when she wasn’t looking, the way her hair spilled across her shoulder, the way she hummed along to the radio without realizing. I didn’t say that I wanted to hold onto these quiet, almost-normal moments, because lately, they felt like the rarest gift.And yes, God help me, it also had something to do with the way those jeans hugged her hips. She had no idea what she was doing to me. Or maybe she did. She probably did.As we walked to the car, my eyes traveled over her again. Slim waist. Bare sliver of skin where her sweater didn’t quite meet the denim. I clenched my jaw.When she sat down beside me and buckled up, I slid in, started
I had told Kim I was going out for marshmallows.Stupid marshmallows.She’d said it half-jokingly the night before, whispering it against my chest after we lay in the same bed again—still distant, still aching, but closer than we’d been in weeks. “I wish we had those tiny marshmallows for the hot chocolate,” she mumbled, her fingers curled on my shirt like she wasn’t ready to let go of me again.So yeah. I told her I’d go get them. Something stupid. Something normal. A symbol of the peace we were both trying to build.But when I pulled into the lot and saw him standing there, my entire body tensed like I’d just walked into a crime scene.Luca.He was standing near the back of the building, his neck craned up toward the windows, like he was trying to count the floors.Looking for her.Looking for Kim.I sat there in the car for a second, watching him through the windshield, willing myself to stay calm.It didn’t work.I’m a detective. I’ve seen things most people couldn’t stomach. Bloo
Erik Pov.I couldn’t stay still.Not on the couch, not in the chair by the window where I’d spent the last three days reading through case files and pretending my mind wasn’t elsewhere. Not in the bed we used to share, where every crease in the sheets still smelled like her shampoo.Last night had cracked something open inside me. Not a full repair—no. That would take time. But it was a step. Her in my arms, crying, clinging. Me, holding her like she was a part of me again.God, I’d missed her. I still did.The pain hadn’t vanished, but something had shifted. A tiny sliver of hope where there had only been jagged shards of betrayal. We were still fragile, still rebuilding. But I couldn’t just sit here and wait for her to come home anymore. I needed to see her. Not as the wounded man hiding behind walls. But as her man.I grabbed my keys off the counter. I didn’t even think twice about it.Maybe it was stupid, irrational. Maybe following her to college made me look like a man on the ed
Erik Pov.The hospital air still clings to me—the sharp sterility of antiseptic, the exhaustion of twelve hours spent trying to find out what happened with that person so I could catch rhe culprit. I should be used to it by now. But tonight, it weighs heavier than usual.I push open the door to the apartment quietly, expecting to see Kim curled on the couch with her laptop or maybe reading in that chair she loves. But the living room is empty.The silence feels thick. It used to be filled with her voice calling out, “You’re home!” followed by the sound of rushing feet and her arms thrown around my neck, grounding me back in something human after hours of clinical detachment.Now, all I hear is the sound of my own heartbeat. And something else.A sob.I freeze.It’s faint—barely there—but unmistakable. It comes from the bedroom.For a moment, I don’t move. My fingers twitch at my side, wanting to open the door and go to her, but my chest tightens in hesitation. We’re still in this frac
Erik Pov.She waited until the apartment was quiet again. No case files open, no coffee boiling, no distractions. Just the two of us, the late afternoon sun spilling across the floor like gold, and the thick, unspoken weight between us.I was sitting on the edge of the bed, going over a report for the precinct, when she walked in and just... stood there.I felt her before I looked up.There was something in the air when she entered a room—always had been. It used to be light. Warmth. Now it was tension laced with guilt, hope strangled by silence.I set the papers down slowly and finally lifted my gaze.Kim was standing near the doorway, in one of my old shirts. Her sleeves were rolled up—just like I’d asked her to keep them—and her fingers twisted around the hem.She cleared her throat. “I need to ask you something.”I didn’t speak.Didn’t move.Only nodded once.She stepped closer, slowly, like every inch mattered. “I know I hurt you,” she said softly, “and I’m not asking you to pret
Kim Pov. I wasn’t expecting Maja to come back. I thought maybe last night had been a one-time thing. A chaotic, whirlwind kind of presence—one of those people who sweep in and stir the air like a summer storm, then disappear with the same speed. But this morning, I hear the door open, the sound
Erik Pov. The first thing I see when I walk into the apartment is Kim. But not the Kim I’m used to seeing. This Kim is… different. She’s standing next to Maja, looking flushed, fidgeting slightly, but not hiding. She’s not covered in oversized sweatshirts or drowning in layers like armor. She’s
Kim – Pov The door clicks shut behind me, and I lean back against it for a moment, letting the silence of the apartment settle around me like a blanket. I didn’t think I’d last the whole shift at the ward today—but I did. Another small step forward. I should be proud of that. I think Erik would be
Kim pov. I’m still not sure how I ended up here. Standing outside the emergency ward with a glass casserole dish in my hands, wrapped tightly in a towel so it wouldn’t burn me. My palms are sweating anyway. Not from the heat—but from everything else. People walk past me—some in uniforms, some in







