As I step into her brother’s old room, my eyes catch on the mirror. I pause, staring at my reflection. I’m a mess. The stubble creeping along my jaw and the dark circles under my eyes tell me what I already know—I need sleep.

Shaking it off, I peel off my damp shirt and start searching the room for something clean. In the closet, a hoodie with “I ♥ New York” across the front hangs limp. I pull it out and toss it onto the bed, then rummage through the dresser for boxers, socks, and whatever else I can use.

When I open another door, I find a small bathroom, the shower practically calling my name. “Yo, do you mind if I take a shower?” I call out, loud enough that Claire should hear me, but not so loud I’ll risk waking the whole house.

With no response, I walk to the door and peek out to where she said her room was. Not seeing her there anymore, I walk over and knock softly. Knock, knock. From inside, I hear faint crying.

“Excuse me,” I say while opening the door.

What greets me is her bare back, only a bra on, as she sits in front of a small desk with a mirror.

“You okay? If not, I could leave…” I say, not wanting to overstep.

As she wipes her face, she laughs through the sobs. “Ahh, no, no… haha.”

I step deeper into the room, standing just behind her.

“All that big talk not even five minutes ago, and here I am crying,” she says, covering her face with her hands.

“No… like I said, what happened to you isn’t normal or right, and it’s okay to feel what you feel.” I look at her through the mirror, and she meets my eyes in it. I continue, “I’m not really good at talking about feelings and all that stuff—that’s more my sister’s job. Well… I guess sister-in-law’s.”

I rub the back of my neck as I move over to the bed, pointing to it, asking silently if I can sit. She nods.

Sitting down, I run a hand through my hair, still looking at her through the mirror. “What happened tonight… I’ve seen it a lot when I first started out as a cop. Sometimes I wouldn’t make it in time. I got used to it… and tired of it. All I wanted was for it to end,” I say, glancing away.

But she turns her chair toward me, and something deeper than reason compels me to meet her gaze.

No words are exchanged, but the look in her eyes—so comforting, as if telling me it’s okay—stops me in my tracks.

Suddenly, it feels like it’s raining inside the room. I cover my face with my hand, trying to make it stop, but I can’t.

As she walks toward me, I raise a hand to stop her, but my strength falters. I’m drawn against the bed into a warm embrace. We say nothing, yet our hearts intertwine, beating as one.

As I lay there, she whispers, “You did good, Victor.”

As if a dam finally broke, I sob.

As I calm down, a wave of embarrassment hits me. “I’m sorry… I guess I stole your spotlight,” I try to joke.

“Haha,” she lets out a tiny laugh while running her fingers through my hair. “It’s okay. I feel better,” she says.

We lie there, time slipping by as if I am the hand of a clock and she is the clock itself. I know nothing but her now. Her sweet scent fills the space, reminding me of something I can’t place—but I find comfort in it.

“My brother’s wife killed herself,” she whispers in my ear. Continuing, she says, “No one really knows why. It was sudden… but I guess you never really know, even if you wish you did.”

I feel a tear hit my cheek. I sit up and look at her; she meets my gaze. I wipe the tears forming in her eyes as she continues.

I say nothing, simply waiting for her as her thoughts settle.

“I knew her for a while. I always thought she was so pretty. When my brother brought her home, we all fell in love with her. She was the light our house needed,” she says. I lay back down beside her, my thumb brushing her cheek gently. She rests within my hand, and I feel her slight movements as she speaks.

“We all loved her… and maybe we could have shown her that more…” Her voice trails off, tears swelling as I pull her closer, letting her muffled cries echo in the room.

“She knew you loved her—all of you. I can’t say I knew her, but sometimes the pain is too much… and one moment of weakness becomes our last moments,” I say, my words weighted with experience. I also know that if tonight hadn’t happened, I might not even be here.

Silence reigns again, her crying reduced to gentle shakes. I rub her back and say, “You’re a godsend to me… to those children, and to anyone else who happens to cross your path.”

I add, “Earlier tonight, I turned in my badge and gun… told the boss to kick rocks,” laughing lightly at the last part.

“He was my biggest supporter. But when I turned in those guys for the goods we found, I was labeled a snitch by the very people who took an oath to serve and protect—not line their pockets with blood,” I say, feeling her grip me as if to tell me not to lose myself in my emotions.

As I hold her close, my mind drifts to tonight—and every night before. Was I really going to kill myself? What do I even know? I can’t help but think that if I hadn’t met her, neither of us might be here.

As I’m lost in my thoughts, her voice pries me out.

“It’s raining heavy,” she says, though I know it isn’t. I don’t respond.

“Yes… it’s still raining hard,” I murmur, though the storm outside barely makes a sound anymore.

As we hold each other, we drift together into tomorrow.