LOGINErik Pov.I couldn’t stay still.Not on the couch, not in the chair by the window where I’d spent the last three days reading through case files and pretending my mind wasn’t elsewhere. Not in the bed we used to share, where every crease in the sheets still smelled like her shampoo.Last night had cracked something open inside me. Not a full repair—no. That would take time. But it was a step. Her in my arms, crying, clinging. Me, holding her like she was a part of me again.God, I’d missed her. I still did.The pain hadn’t vanished, but something had shifted. A tiny sliver of hope where there had only been jagged shards of betrayal. We were still fragile, still rebuilding. But I couldn’t just sit here and wait for her to come home anymore. I needed to see her. Not as the wounded man hiding behind walls. But as her man.I grabbed my keys off the counter. I didn’t even think twice about it.Maybe it was stupid, irrational. Maybe following her to college made me look like a man on the ed
Erik Pov.The hospital air still clings to me—the sharp sterility of antiseptic, the exhaustion of twelve hours spent trying to find out what happened with that person so I could catch rhe culprit. I should be used to it by now. But tonight, it weighs heavier than usual.I push open the door to the apartment quietly, expecting to see Kim curled on the couch with her laptop or maybe reading in that chair she loves. But the living room is empty.The silence feels thick. It used to be filled with her voice calling out, “You’re home!” followed by the sound of rushing feet and her arms thrown around my neck, grounding me back in something human after hours of clinical detachment.Now, all I hear is the sound of my own heartbeat. And something else.A sob.I freeze.It’s faint—barely there—but unmistakable. It comes from the bedroom.For a moment, I don’t move. My fingers twitch at my side, wanting to open the door and go to her, but my chest tightens in hesitation. We’re still in this frac
Erik Pov.She waited until the apartment was quiet again. No case files open, no coffee boiling, no distractions. Just the two of us, the late afternoon sun spilling across the floor like gold, and the thick, unspoken weight between us.I was sitting on the edge of the bed, going over a report for the precinct, when she walked in and just... stood there.I felt her before I looked up.There was something in the air when she entered a room—always had been. It used to be light. Warmth. Now it was tension laced with guilt, hope strangled by silence.I set the papers down slowly and finally lifted my gaze.Kim was standing near the doorway, in one of my old shirts. Her sleeves were rolled up—just like I’d asked her to keep them—and her fingers twisted around the hem.She cleared her throat. “I need to ask you something.”I didn’t speak.Didn’t move.Only nodded once.She stepped closer, slowly, like every inch mattered. “I know I hurt you,” she said softly, “and I’m not asking you to pret
Erik Pov.It happened in the kitchen.Not with fire, or heat, or some grand gesture. Just toast.I was making toast.Maja had dropped off a basket of fresh bread that morning, and for the first time in weeks, I woke up to the scent of it in the apartment. I knew Kim had already been up—her laptop was still glowing softly on the couch, and her favorite mug was in the sink, half-full with cold coffee.She didn’t say much these days, just padded around like a ghost in my periphery. Always quiet. Always careful not to step too close.I didn’t blame her. I was the one who couldn’t look at her without my chest twisting into knots. The one who couldn’t forget the way her body moved against his. The one who was still bleeding in silence.But that morning, for some reason, I didn’t feel like bleeding.I felt... restless.So I pulled out a slice of bread, dropped it into the toaster, and stood there, lost in thought. About the case. About Maja. About Kim. Always Kim.I didn’t hear her come up b
Kim Pov.It started with a sock.Erik was pacing the apartment on the phone with someone from the station, murmuring something about paperwork and a case file, when he tripped—just slightly—on a stray sock I’d left near the coffee table.He swore under his breath, catching himself before he could stumble entirely.“Dammit—why is this here?”I glanced up from the kitchen island, where I was trying to distract myself by stirring sugar into my tea. When I saw what he was holding—an old fuzzy sock with a pink cartoon owl on it—I choked on a laugh.He looked over at me sharply.“It’s not funny.”I shrugged, a grin tugging at my lips. “It kind of is.”He held it up between two fingers like it was radioactive. “Kim… seriously?”“That sock’s a legend,” I said, walking toward him without thinking. “I’ve had it since I was twelve.”“That’s disgusting.”“It’s adorable,” I corrected. “And also very lucky. I wore it during my psych final.”He rolled his eyes, but there was the barest twitch at the
Kim Pov.The bedroom feels colder than I remember.Not in temperature, exactly—but in something deeper. The way the light hits the walls. The way the shadows stretch in places I didn’t notice before. The bed is made, but not like Erik does it. He’s always been meticulous about corners and folds. I just tugged the blanket over the pillows this morning with a heavy sigh and trembling hands.And now we’re here.Together. But not.He walks in behind me, his steps quieter than usual. I wonder if his heart is racing the way mine is. If his skin feels too tight, if his thoughts are echoing loud and unbearable like mine.I stand at my side of the bed. He stands at his. We both look down at the same sheets, the same mattress where so many memories were born.“Do you want a pillow barrier?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.He doesn’t answer for a moment. Then, “No.”I nod and climb in, curling on my side of the bed, facing the wall. I don’t dare look at him. Not yet. The weight of his presence
Erik Pov The city quiets as the night deepens, but my mind doesn’t. I’ve been sitting in the car for hours now. The heater’s off, the windows are starting to fog with the cold. But I can’t move. Can’t drive. Can’t go home. Not after what I saw. Not with that image burned behind my eyelids. Kim.
Erik POV I don’t even know how I got into the car. My hands were shaking too hard to grip the keys at first, and then I was driving, fast, too fast, heart pounding in my ears louder than the music still echoing from that goddamn house. I saw it. I actually saw it. Her body against his. Her hip
Kim Pov.Luca’s house is already buzzing when I step out of the cab.The music pulses through the walls, the bass vibrating in my chest as I walk up the front path. Lights glow from the windows, and the sound of laughter spills out into the night. I stop just before the door, heart thudding. I’ve n
Erik Pov.She steps out of the bathroom, towel-drying the ends of her hair, and my breath catches the second I see what she’s wearing.It’s not indecent. Not even close. But the way that black dress hugs her waist, the way the thin straps lie against her bare shoulders and the hemline stops just ab







