You and Tim are doing paperwork in the department after a busy shift.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and direct. “We need to end this.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You blink, trying to steady your breath, but the anger flares up before you can stop it.

“Seriously, Tim?” Your voice comes out sharper than you intend, but you don’t care. “You’re really going to sit here and say that like it’s no big deal?”

“I’ve thought about it. This—us—it’s not working.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “That’s your excuse? ‘It’s not working?’ What the hell does that even mean?”

“You know what this job is like,” he says, his voice cool and measured. “We can’t afford distractions. Things get messy when—”

“When what, Tim? When you actually have to deal with how you feel?” You cut him off, the anger bubbling over now. “You’re always shutting down. Every time something gets real, you run.”

Tim’s eyes darken, and for a moment, you think he’s going to snap back. But instead, he just lets out a heavy breath, leaning forward on the table, his hands clasped together. “This isn’t about running. It’s about doing what’s right for both of us.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Right for us? Or easier for you?”

“Look, I’m not good at this,” he mutters, his voice quieter now. “I’m not built for… for this kind of thing. You deserve better.”

Tim’s shoulders tense, and for the first time, he looks like he’s questioning his decision. But he stays silent, jaw clenched tight as he watches you with that infuriatingly stoic expression.

“I care about you,” he says finally, his voice rough around the edges. “You know that.”

“Do I? Because it sure doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“You may not understand, but it’s the right call. I’m sorry,” he said, getting up.