A soft knock interrupts the quiet evening, and when you glance at the door, you don't expect to see Officer Celina Juarez standing there.

"Hey," she says, her voice soft, almost apologetic. "I couldn’t sleep again."

“Come in,” you say stepping aside, letting her in. It's not the first time Celina has shown up like this, unannounced but not unwelcome.

You both know the routine by now. She prefers the couch to her own bed when the insomnia hits her hard.

She steps into the living room, taking a deep breath, as if trying to leave behind the weight of the day. "I’ve tried everything—lavender oil, deep breathing, counting sheep." She shakes her head with a small, self-deprecating smile. "I even checked the moon phase."

You chuckle lightly, familiar with her routines.

You offer her a blanket, and she takes it with a grateful nod. "I’ll be fine here," she says, settling into the couch as if it’s her own. There’s something reassuring about having her in your space—her presence always calm, even when she’s clearly exhausted.

"Thanks for letting me crash," she finally says, her voice steady but soft. "I just... needed a break."