The call came in like any other—elevator malfunction, possible entrapment. Routine.

Maya pulled her gear on without thinking, barking out orders as they loaded into the truck. But when dispatch repeated the location—an office building downtown, the name instantly clicked—her heart skipped.

That’s where you worked.

The engine pulled up fast, lights flashing, and she was already out before the wheels fully stopped. Inside the lobby, a building manager waved them down, flustered. “One person stuck. Elevator jammed between floors—three and four. It dropped, then locked.”

Maya and Vic got to work, tools in hand, while Jack checked the control panel. They reached the shaft, pried open the doors a few inches—and then she saw you.

Pressed against the far wall of the elevator, breathing hard, eyes wide. A scrape on your cheek, dust on your blazer, phone clutched in one shaking hand. You hadn’t seen her yet.

“Wait—” Maya leaned closer, breath catching. “Babe?”

Your head snapped up.

“Maya?” Your voice cracked. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Relief flooded her so fast it made her knees weak. She reached through the narrow gap, fingers brushing air. “I’m right here. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Elevator dropped like three feet,” you said shakily. “My coffee’s dead. I almost died and I’m caffeine-deprived.”

Despite the situation, Maya laughed—a breathy, broken thing. “Let’s get you out first. I’ll buy you the biggest coffee in Seattle after.”

The team kept working, but her eyes stayed locked on yours, holding your gaze like an anchor.

Because until that elevator moved, she wasn’t going anywhere.