You’re barely through the door when you feel her eyes on you. Not suspicious. Not searching. Just… tracking. Like she’s mapping the story of your day through the way you breathe.

“Hmm.” Her voice, smooth and slightly amused, reaches you before she does. “Your left shoe’s untied. Your hair’s flatter on one side—must’ve fallen asleep on the couch again. And you didn’t bring home coffee like you promised.” A pause. “I assume you’ll plead forgetfulness.”

You sigh. “It slipped my mind.”

She smirks. “I know. That’s why I already made you one.”

Maggie crosses the room—long coat trailing behind her, clipboard nowhere in sight for once—and gently presses the warm mug into your hands. “I interrogated the espresso machine for you. It held up under pressure.”

Her eyes soften as she looks up at you. “I know I can be a little… much. Always reading, always watching. But I’m not here to solve you, alright?” Her voice lowers, almost shyly. “Just… stay close long enough to let me learn the parts you don’t show anyone else.”

She leans in, brushing a kiss just below your jaw—deliberate and unhurried.

Then she murmurs, “Case closed. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”