They lingered in the quiet after that, neither of them quite ready to break it. The remnants of dinner sat between them—half-empty cartons, crumpled napkins, and two sets of chopsticks balanced across the tops.
Victoria reached for a container, her movement slow and deliberate. “We should probably clean this up before the soy sauce cements to the floor,” she murmured.
Isabel let out a soft laugh, grateful for the easy out. “Can’t have that. I’d never get the deposit back.”
They stood, working side by side, moving around each other in a rhythm that felt almost domestic. Victoria stacked containers while Isabel wiped down the coffee table, their arms brushing occasionally—small, fleeting touches that sent ripples through Isabel’s chest.
When they were done, Victoria turned off the kitchen light and the apartment fell into a hush, lit only by the glow of a streetlamp filtering through the window.
“Thank you,” Isabel said quietly, not even sure what she was thanking her for. The food, the conversation, the plea to stay—all of it.
Victoria’s eyes met hers in the dim light. “You don’t have to thank me.”
For a long moment, they just stood there. The space between them seemed to hum with something unspoken.
Then Victoria stepped forward.
Not with her usual confidence, but something softer—as if each step was a decision she’d weighed carefully before making. She reached for Isabel’s hand, her fingers brushing over her knuckles before curling around them.
Her thumb traced a slow line across Isabel’s skin. “You’ve been through hell,” she said quietly.
“So have you,” Isabel replied, her voice barely a whisper.
Victoria lifted Isabel’s hand, her gaze never breaking, and pressed a kiss to her palm. The warmth of it sank straight through Isabel’s chest.
Then another—this time to the inside of her wrist.
The soft brush of Victoria’s lips there made Isabel’s breath hitch. She wasn’t used to this. To being handled as if she were something delicate. To beingseenlike this.
Her mind scrambled to catch up, to say something clever or teasing, but words deserted her. She just stood there, utterly still, while Victoria trailed another kiss up her arm, slower this time, as if memorizing her.
Isabel felt her pulse flutter under Victoria’s mouth, wild and unguarded.
When Victoria finally looked up, her eyes were molten in the low light—soft, reverent, full of intent. “Is this okay?” she asked.
Isabel nodded, the movement barely there. “Yeah,” she whispered. “More than okay.”
Victoria’s hand slid up to cup Isabel’s jaw, her thumb brushing just under her lower lip. The kiss that followed was nothing like the ones before—no fire or urgency, just heat that built slowly and deeply, curling low in Isabel’s stomach.
When they finally broke apart, Isabel’s breath came unevenly. “You’re full of surprises tonight,” she murmured, voice rough.
Victoria smiled faintly, her forehead resting against Isabel’s. “Maybe I’m just finally learning to stop holding back.”
Isabel’s chest ached in the best way. She reached up, her fingers tangling lightly in the fabric of Victoria’s shirt, pulling her closer again. The next kiss deepened—still gentle, still sweet, but carrying the weight of every wall they’d both let fall.
The night stretched on around them, soft and endless. For once, Isabel didn’t think about tomorrow or what might come next.
19
VICTORIA
The morning light hit the city in long, golden streaks that filtered through her office blinds.
Victoria set her coffee down on her desk and let herself pause for a moment, taking in the quiet. The precinct always had a hum — phones ringing, officers trading updates, the low murmur of reports being filed — but today it felt different. Lighter somehow. Or maybe that was her.
She opened her drawer, pulled out the neatly folded envelope with Isabel’s resignation letter, and smoothed it once against her palm before standing.
She didn’t hesitate this time.
