Chapter Text
The apartment smelled like cinnamon and maple syrup, Tim hovered near the stove, his eyes flicking between the bubbling batter and the clock on the wall.
He knew she’d be home soon. He’d been there for hours already, trying to get everything just right. Chocolate croissants plated beautifully, the sea bass cooking in the oven, and a plate filled with veggie burgers wrapped up in foil. He remembered everything. Every detail from their messy, beautiful past.
This was more than breakfast. This was a bridge.
The door clicked open just after sunrise, and Lucy stepped inside, weighed down by exhaustion. Her whole body ached, her brain was a fog still adjusting to her new work time. But then she stopped short, because Tim Bradford was right there in her kitchen.
“Hello,” he said with a soft smile, the spatula still in his hand.
Lucy blinked, eyes narrowing slightly as she was still confused by the sight in front of her. “Hey... I know I’m exhausted to the point of hallucination, but you are not my roommate.”
Tim laughed lightly, that quiet, easy kind of laugh that only ever came out when he was around her. “Celina let me in before she left for work. Look, I know being the supervising sergeant on night shift can be rough. So I got all your favorites.”
Her eyes swept over the counter, widening as she took it all in: pancakes stacked high like he remembered from their early breakfast rituals, chocolate croissants still warm, a platter of perfectly grilled veggie burgers. The scent of something buttery and citrusy drifted from the oven.
“Pancakes...Chocolate croissants...OH, are those veggie burgers?” she asked, a touch of wonder in her voice.
Tim nodded proudly. “Oh yeah. And we’ve got a sea bass warming in the oven too.”
She let out a tired laugh and stepped toward the counter, her whole body starting to unwind as she looked at the food. “This is perfect. I mean, I’m not gonna have to cook for a week.”
“Well,” he said, gesturing toward the couch, “Go relax, let me finish up here.”
She hesitated a moment, then picked up one of the croissants and flopped down on the couch. He smiled again and wiped his hands on a dishtowel, then continued to flip the pancakes on the pan. And that’s when he spoke.
He smiled, his voice low and gentle. “Hey, so listen, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the last few months..”, he started, glancing at Lucy while she settled onto the couch, a chocolate croissant in hand.
“As we’ve been doing whatever it is that we are doing, you know, all the hookups, all the conversations about what might happen after you make sergeant, and now that we’re here I just… I want you to know that I’d never assume anything about our future. I know the damage that I did. And after a lot of therapy, I know why I did it. And I- look, I’ve been doing the work to fix what’s been broken inside me. So, you can trust me when I tell you, Lucy, I will never hurt you like that again.” he said.
His voice softened even more. “If we’re gonna get back together, I think we should take the next step, and you should move in with me.”
He gave a small, hopeful smile. “So we can give us a -”
Then his words stopped. He glanced down and saw her: eyes closed, peaceful, already asleep on the couch. “…a real shot” he sighed.
A quiet laugh escaped him. “It was a good try.”
Stepping back, he bent down and scooped the croissant from her hand, careful not to wake her. “It was a good try,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead before draping the blanket over her. Then, softly, “To be continued.”
The house was so quiet. Too quiet for someone who just poured his heart out to the woman he loved.
Tim stood in the kitchen, staring down at the half-drunk cup of coffee he made two hours ago. He let out a breath, the words still circling in his head. ”I’m never gonna hurt you again… I want you to move in with me.
He said it. Finally. Every syllable had felt like walking barefoot across glass, a vulnerability he wasn’t used to sharing, but he meant every word.
And she didn’t hear any of it.
He had looked over and found her fast asleep, curled on the couch like she hadn’t rested in months. And maybe she hadn’t. He wouldn't blame her. God knows he’d kept her up with more than his fair share of heartbreak.
But now, he’s left with nothing but his thoughts and a growing knot in his chest that he tries to ease, but fails.
How do I say it again? How do I get her to believe me this time?
Because this time, he means it. Not that he didn’t before when he talked about loving her in small doses or when he said he still loved her, of course he meant everything but this time it’s more, cause he was asking her for another chance. Just Tim Bradford, man in love, begging for another chance.
He wants to believe in their Wednesday talk. That he can open up again. That she’s giving him room to prove he’s not going anywhere.
But what if she doesn't believe he can change, that he’s not gonna hurt her again?
After a while, he left the apartment. But not before washing the dishes, wrapping everything in foil and writing a message on a yellow sticky note.
“For when you wake up”, with a smile face at the bottom. Simple, but sweet, like he used to give her when they were still dating.
He glances toward the living room.
She was still asleep. And damn if she didn’t look peaceful. Like she’d finally let go of something and found rest.
Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe that’s what he needs to say on Wednesday, not just that he loves her, not just that he wants her to move in, but that he sees her.
He sees what she’s been carrying. What she’s been scared of. And he’s not going to let her carry it alone anymore.
Because Lucy Chen is the love of his life.
And this time, he wasn’t going to screw it up.
———— * ————
For a moment, she doesn’t remember falling asleep. She sat there, feeling that soft blanket over her, remembering a voice—his voice—saying something she couldn't quite catch before sleep stole her away.
And now… silence.
She stretched, slowly, feeling no tension in her shoulders despite falling asleep on the couch. She slept, relaxed for the first time in god knows how long. Her body remembered it even before her mind does.
And then she smelled it: Pancakes. Chocolate croissants. Sea bass. Veggie burgers.
She sat up, disoriented for half a second, until she sees the plate on the coffee table. Her favorite breakfast croissant sat there still warm.
She stared. And her heart did that annoying thing where it stutters.
Tim.
God, of course it’s Tim.
Over countless days on their lunch breaks, he’d teased her about how she always ate those veggie burgers, and here they were, extra pickles and all. Foil-wrapped, still-warm. Fish from their first date, how they never actually ate that night and how it still held an special place at her heart.
She takes a bite of the croissant, from her favorite bakery, and just sits there, letting it all wash over her. The way he always tried. Even when he messed up, he always tried.
And somehow, without words, he knew exactly what she needed this morning.
Safety, comfort and something familiar.
She started walking around the kitchen, finally taking it all in. The sticky note on top of all the food, staring at her, like a statement, maybe a promise that things could change for the better now.
A memory cut through her: after their breakup, on her birthday, when she’d been too stressed, too sad, feelings hurting deep, Kojo had wandered into her apartment holding that card. She still had it, kept in a drawer.
It was a small moment. One of the first times she’d realized Tim never really let her go, even if they weren’t together. The dog’s presence had brought her a familiar face when she felt the most alone, reminding her that love can feel like home and that sensation never really goes away.
Her throat tightened. She reached for a pancake, tearing off a corner. The taste was perfect: buttery, sweet, soft and with a hint of cinnamon. It reminded her of mornings when they’d fumbled through recipe books on ClipTok, knocking flour across the counter, stealing kisses between pancake flips.
She’d been so tired back then, studying for the Detective exams and bone-deep burnout, but he’d teased her when she tried to nap with a spatula in one hand.
She sank onto a stool and let tears prick her eyes. It wasn’t just the breakfast; it was what it meant. He’d worked through his memories, dug into every piece that was the most important to her and brought it here.He was trying to be different, he was working for it.
She leaned against the counter, tasting the pancake again, and whispered to the empty room, “You remember everything, don’t you?”
She imagined him nodding, brush of his hand against hers.
Because he did.
She thinks back to the pain. The distance and how her heart cracked when he pushed her away.
But then she thinks about the past few months. The way he’s fought to stay present and had shown up for her in little ways, again and again. This breakfast. The way he gave her space when she needed it and made her feel like she could come back on her own terms.
And she has.
That’s the thing. Somewhere in between the anger and the silence and the conversations they weren’t ready for, she forgave him. Quietly. Without telling him. She just didn’t know how to let him back in without breaking herself again.
Because loving Tim Bradford was easy.
But trusting him again? That was the hard part .
Except now, sitting here looking at all her favorite foods, full of memories, she knows she can.
He’s her home.
She thought of Chris, how his offer to move in had felt like a nightmare, how every new house he offered had made her flinch.
And now, with Tim, she thought about how from the beginning they always talked about everything, how they saw themselves married, in a big house, with kids and grandkids. And how she still wanted that, how she’ll always want that everything with him.
Every memory softened into something else entirely: belonging, t knowing that home could be a person as much as a place.
Tomorrow, on Wednesday, she thought.
She’s going to tell him.
Not just that she loved him. Not just that she forgave him. But that she wants to come home. To him.
Because she’s tired of living in the in-between. Tired of pretending that her heart doesn’t know exactly where it belongs.
It’s always been him.
And this time, she’s going to say it before anything can stop her.
But for tonight, she let herself breathe and relaxed, glancing at the sweet gesture he made for her