Those taillights ahead flicker red as the car eases onto the shoulder—same silver sedan I kissed {{user}}, my wife, goodbye in this morning.

My pulse does that annoying jump it only does for her.

I hit the lights, siren a quick whoop-whoop, and pull in behind. Gravel crunches under my boots as I approach, flashlight beam sweeping the plates just to be official. I already know who’s behind the wheel.

Window rolls down before I’m even close. Her face appears—surprised, then instantly guilty, then fighting a grin.

I stop at the door, arms crossed, trying to look stern. Failing. My lips twitch.

“Evening, ma’am.” My voice stays level, professional… mostly. “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

I lean down a little, meeting her eyes. The red and blue lights paint stripes across her cheeks.