Emily woke up to the soft rays of morning sun filtering through her window, casting golden patterns across her bedroom floor. For the first time in days, her chest didn't feel heavy with anxiety. She lay there for a moment, letting the silence settle around her. No more echoing voices from the interrogation room, no more fear or confusion. Just calm. A fragile but welcome peace.
After a few quiet minutes, she sat up and reached for her phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen before she opened her contact list. Alex's name stared back at her like a wound she refused to keep open any longer. With a deep breath, she deleted his contact, then moved on to erasing old photos, chat histories, and every trace of him. Each deleted memory felt like a stitch closing a wound.
She stood, stretched, and made herself a warm cup of coffee. Today wasn't just another day—it was the beginning of her healing. A fresh start. And she was determined to walk into it with her head held high.
---
Arriving at the precinct, Emily expected a mix of reactions—maybe awkward glances or hesitant hellos—but what greeted her instead was warmth. Genuine warmth.
"Emily!" Officer Daniels grinned, walking up to her. "Welcome back. We missed your sarcasm around here."
Another officer added, "The coffee's been tasting too bitter without your complaints."
Emily smiled, touched by the reception. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed being part of this chaotic, dysfunctional family.
"Thanks, guys," she said, her voice more emotional than she intended. "I missed all of you too. Even you, Jenkins," she added, nodding at the officer who once accidentally ate her lunch and blamed it on a ghost.
She walked past the hallway that led to the holding cells. A chill ran down her spine at the memory of her time there. But she shook it off. That was behind her now.
Her office felt familiar—comforting even. The scent of old case files, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights, the scuffed floor—it all made her feel like she'd stepped back into her rightful place.
Through the glass wall of his cabin, she spotted Liam hunched over a file. His usual intense focus made his brows furrow as if trying to decode the universe itself. Emily tapped lightly on the door and walked in.
"Hey," she greeted. "Thanks for taking my case. I really appreciate it."
Liam looked up, his face unreadable. "I was just doing my job. If I'd found out you were guilty, I would've locked you up without blinking."
Emily chuckled. "I believe you. Still, I'm grateful. You could have avoided the drama, but you didn't."
Liam closed the file he was reading and leaned back in his chair. "I don't do drama," he said dryly.
"Oh, I can tell," she replied, smirking. "Completely emotionless, that's you."
He arched an eyebrow. "You're not going to start crying on me now, are you? I left my tissues in the other Royceet."
Emily rolled her eyes. "Relax. I just thought I'd buy you lunch or something. A small thank-you."
Liam narrowed his eyes. "What's the catch? You trying to recruit me for some charity event?"
"Nope. Just a meal. Unless you're scared to be seen with me in public."
"Oh, I'm terrified," he said sarcastically. "What if people start assuming we're friends?"
Emily gave a playful gasp. "Perish the thought! That might ruin your whole brooding detective image."
They both laughed, and for a moment, the tension that had loomed between them during the investigation evaporated. Emily noticed the way Liam's face relaxed when he smiled—how it softened the hardened lines she hadn't even realized were there.
"Anyway," he said, pulling out a folder. "Since you're so keen to thank me, how about you pay me in work first? There's a new case. I need your insights."
Emily took the folder with mock solemnity. "Ah, yes. The real gift—paperwork."
Liam smirked. "Welcome back, Officer."
******************************
Back at her desk, Emily flipped through the file. It was a missing persons case—young woman, early twenties, last seen outside a nightclub. As she jotted down initial notes, her mind focused. This was what she was good at. Investigating. Solving puzzles. Seeking justice.
A few minutes later, she looked up and caught Liam watching her through the glass. He quickly looked away when their eyes met. Emily's lips curled into a small smile.
She stood and walked back to his cabin, poking her head in. "Hey, Liam?"
He looked up. "Yeah?"
"I'm glad you're not my boyfriend," she said with a mischievous grin. "I don't think I could handle the emotional whiplash."
Liam paused, then leaned back in his chair. "I'm shaking with fear."
They stared at each other for a moment before both of them laughed again. It was refreshing—being able to laugh after so much pain.
****************************
Later that day, Emily sat alone in the break room, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. The laughter and ease from earlier had faded, replaced by quiet reflection. She wasn't naive—she knew trauma didn't disappear overnight. But today felt like a start. A real start.
She thought about Alex again—not with longing or hurt, but with clarity. What he did to her, the betrayal, the violence… it was a scar she'd carry, but not one that would define her.
More than anything, she thought about Liam. His sarcasm. His loyalty. His unspoken support. She didn't know where their relationship was heading—whether it would remain professional or slowly drift into something more—but she knew he was someone she could trust. And that, in her world, was rare.
She pulled out her notepad and began outlining ideas for the case. Her handwriting flowed smoothly, her thoughts sharp. She was back, not just at work but in herself. Confident. Capable. Unbroken.
From the hallway, she heard Liam's familiar voice calling out. "Emily, you still owe me that lunch."
She smiled and stood. "Coming, Detective."
And just like that, she walked into her fresh start—stronger, wiser, and ready for whatever came next.