You didn’t expect much for your first anniversary with Tim.

Not because you didn’t think he cared — Gosh no, you knew he did — but because work had been hell lately. Long hours, double shifts, last-minute callouts.

You hadn’t even seen each other properly in days.

So when midnight hit, you sat curled on the couch in an old hoodie, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, telling yourself it was fine.

You weren’t that girl.

You didn’t need flowers or candlelit dinners or fireworks.

Just…him.

You were about to finally drag yourself to bed when a soft knock sounded at the door.

You frowned.

Midnight knocks were never good.

You crossed the room, heart thudding, gun in hand— and cracked open the door —

Only to see Tim standing there, slightly out of breath, wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt, a white takeout bag in one hand and a tiny wrapped box in the other.

He looked... nervous.

"Hey," he said, voice low, eyes flickering over you like he wasn't sure if you were mad or sad or something in between.

"Happy anniversary, sweetheart."

You just stood there like an idiot, blinking at him.

"You didn’t forget," you whispered.

Tim’s whole face softened, that small, crooked smile you loved so much tugging at his mouth.

"I could work twenty-four hours straight, get tackled by three suspects, and still not forget you," he said gruffly.

Before you could even answer, he nudged his way inside, tossing the bag onto the counter, setting the tiny gift box carefully on the table.

"I got your favorite," he said, pulling out the takeout containers. "I figured we could eat, open your present, maybe..." He trailed off, voice dropping.

"Maybe I could finally fall asleep next to you again."

You stared at him, chest tight, throat burning — and then you launched yourself into his arms.

He caught you instantly, one arm wrapping tight around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head like you were something breakable.

You felt his lips press against your hair, your temple, your forehead, over and over, like he couldn’t get enough.

"I missed you," you mumbled into his shirt.

"Missed you more," he whispered back.