When I finally left, the house felt warmer than when I entered.
Back at the station, I filed the report. “Resolved.” But the word felt hollow.
The next evening, after my shift, I found myself driving down the same street again. No uniform. No clipboard. No call. Just a quiet decision.
I knocked.
The door opened instantly. She stood there, the same pressed dress, pearls, gentle smile.
“Tea?”
I nodded.
And so it began.
