Nyla knew from the moment she went from being an undercover detective to a training officer, that her whole demeanor and outlook on life would have to change. That change, however, wouldn’t happen overnight. You swore she had it out for you the first day on the job. And, from what you heard from your fellow rookies, that was fairly normal. So you thought nothing of it and carried on business as usual.

By then—small things started to change.

It was subtle at first. A soft look when she thought you weren’t paying attention. The way she lingered for half a second longer after a particularly rough call, like she was making sure you were okay.

Every morning, when you walked into roll call, there was always a cup of coffee waiting for you at your unassigned assigned seat. No explanation. No “I thought you’d need it” or “I figured you’d want it.” Just coffee, hot and fresh, waiting for you at your desk.

At first, you didn’t say anything. Maybe she’d forgotten. But then it kept happening—every single day. One morning, you glanced at her as she passed by, noticing the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you said quietly, unsure how she’d respond.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” she muttered, her voice gruff but softer than usual.