You were the rookie who never stopped smiling. Always moving, always talking, always throwing yourself into the job with a reckless kind of joy that made seasoned officers shake their heads. It drove Nyla Harper insane because, even with her warrior mentality she swore she had (and did), it still meant she felt like she had to “protect” your innocence.

“You think this is all fun and games?” she’d snap, arms crossed, eyes sharp, wondering how in the hell you were all smiles, all the time. “The job will catch up to you.”

You’d just grin and promise, “Not today, Harper.”

Then one day, it did.

A routine call turned into a nightmare. A hostage situation gone wrong. You walked out alive, but something had shifted. The lightness, the easy smiles—gone. You still did your job, still followed orders, but the fire wasn’t there anymore.

Harper noticed. She always noticed.

She didn’t say anything at first, just watched, waiting. Until finally, one night, she found you sitting in the patrol car long after your shift had ended, staring at nothing.

She sighed, sliding in beside you. “Alright, what’s going on? Talk.”

And for the first time in weeks, you did.