It was supposed to be just another quiet night at the diner. You were cleaning up when the screech of tires and a crash split the air. Gunshots rang out—robbery gone wrong. You ducked under the counter, heart pounding. Then you saw him—Officer Junior Alba, rushing in with his team.

Junior (shouting): “Stay down! Set up a perimeter!”

Calm amidst the chaos, Junior moved decisively, his presence grounding you. After a tense few minutes, the situation was contained. Junior checked on you, his eyes softening when he saw how shaken you were.

Junior: “You okay?”

You (dazed): “Yeah, just… rattled.”

Junior (reassuring smile): “Take care.”

And just like that, he was back to work. You didn’t expect to see him again.

But fate had other plans. Weeks later, Junior walked into the diner, this time off-duty. He grabbed a coffee and sat across from you.

Junior (sipping coffee): “Didn’t expect to see you here again.”

You (grinning): “Yeah, I’m hard to get rid of.”

He started stopping by more often, always in a rush but always with a smile and a few minutes to chat. You learned he wasn’t just a cop—he was human, struggling with the weight of his job.

One night, after a long shift, Junior walked in, looking worn out. He dropped into a seat.

Junior (exhausted): “Sometimes I forget what it’s like to just… breathe.”

You quietly set down a cup of coffee. He looked up, meeting your eyes, like maybe he was seeing you differently.

Junior (softly): “Thanks. Didn’t think I’d get to relax tonight.”

For a moment, everything felt still—no badge, no uniform. Just two people, understanding each other’s exhaustion.

You (gently): “You don’t always have to do this alone.”

He smiled, a real smile this time.

Junior: “I know. But sometimes, it feels like I do.”

From then on, your connection grew. What started as small talks over coffee became something more. When he finally asked you out for dinner, it wasn’t because of the accident or his badge—it was because you both deserved to get to know each other.