Chapter 5

The story got more dramatic with clearer character motives. Even as an editor, I almost wanted to give them a little award for their performance.

I asked, "Who was pestering her?"

Matthew shook his head. "I don't know."

"Did she call the cops?"

He shook his head again.

"Then why didn't she go to the bar staff?"

Matthew was stumped.

I jumped in to save him. "Don't worry. I'm used to asking a lot of questions for interviews."

Matthew walked off with the empty paper cup in hand, hurrying away as if escaping a tough spot he couldn't talk his way out of.

I sat in the office for about ten minutes before Alex finally showed up.

He was in his uniform, shoulder patches perfectly aligned, cuffs buttoned up tight. When he saw me, he paused mid-step. "What are you doing here?"

I held up my work permit. "I'm here to interview the guardian of the city's nighttime commuters."

He frowned slightly. "You're the one in charge of this feature?"

"Yep, fate works in mysterious ways. Can't fight it."

*****

There were other people in the office, so Alex didn't say much. He led me into a small meeting room.

Once the door closed, he spoke first. "Don't let your personal feelings get in the way of your work."

I set my recorder on the table. "Relax, Officer Carter. I'm all business when I'm working. I know how to keep my personal stuff separate. I won't confuse helping a stranger with holding your ex."

His face darkened. "Rosy, let's get started."

I hit the record button. "First question: When you're on night duty, how do you usually handle drunk driving, bar fights, or sudden help?"

Alex stared at me.

I locked my gaze on him.

The recorder's tiny red light stayed lit, stubbornly glowing without a flicker.

He finally sat down, his voice steady again. "First, make sure the scene is safe. Then, contact colleagues, the police station, or medical services, depending on the situation. We can't leave our post for too long."

I nodded and jotted it down in my notebook. [Can't leave the post for too long.] The pen made a soft scratch on the paper.

Alex's eyes landed on my handwriting, his lips tightening for a moment.

The interview went smoothly.

He told me about pushing cars in the rain, escorting designated drivers in the early hours, and getting cursed for half an hour after stopping a drunk driver. These were all great stories.

If I hadn't seen him outside the bar last night, I would've written something touching.

As I listened to him talk about duty and personal limits, every word sounded polished on the outside, yet I had no idea if there was something rotten underneath.

After the interview, he turned off the recorder. "Let's grab dinner tonight."

"No, thanks," I replied.

"Rosy, we can't go on like this."

"Like what?"

He pressed his hand on the table, his voice dropping lower. "You know I'm not that kind of guy."

I looked up at him. "What kind of guy? The one who lies, or the one who lets his ex post a flirty Instagram story at 2 AM?"

Annoyance flashed in his eyes. "I can't do anything about what she posts."

"You don't have to show up in her pics."

Alex went quiet.

I packed up my stuff. "Alex, I'm not here to pick a fight. I'm here to do my job and to clear something up."

"What is it?"

I looked at the badge on his chest. "Is it that you can't handle personal limits, or you never planned to?"

His fingers twitched lightly.

Outside, Matthew was calling out to someone, and I heard footsteps rushing past. The sound of shoes scraping the floor sent a gust of wind through the hallway.

Alex didn't reply.

I grabbed my bag and stood up. "You can keep your answer for now. But if it takes too long, I won't care anymore."

*****

Sophie took the initiative to contact me on WhatsApp the day after the interview.

Her profile pic was a black-and-white side shot, showing off her collarbone in a way that screamed artsy vibes.

The message was super polite. [Ms. Snyder, there seems to be some misunderstanding. I want to talk to you.]

I stared at that line for half a minute.

Clara was eating potato chips next to me, the crunching sound like a soundtrack to the drama. "Agree to meet her. What are you scared of? She's bold enough to ask you out. You can't handle a coffee?"

I agreed. Sophie quickly sent me the address: a riverside coffee shop called Shore.

I stared at the shop sign and thought she really knew how to pick a fitting spot. Everyone was trying to reach a haven, yet some people couldn't help sinking someone else's ride.

*****

It was a windy Saturday afternoon by the river.

When I got there, Sophie was already sitting by the window.

She looked skinnier in person than she did on Instagram, with a delicate face, and her eyes had a slight upward tilt at the corners. When she smiled, she gave off this relaxed, spoiled vibe, like someone used to being doted on.

There were two cups of coffee on the table. She'd ordered me a hot latte. "Ms. Snyder, I didn't know what you liked, so I went with something popular."

"Thanks." I sat down. "I usually go for an iced Americano. It's bitter and keeps me sharp."

Her smile faltered for a second. "You're more straightforward than I expected."

"I didn't think you'd ask me out. Normally, you'd keep posting 'for the ones who understand' on your Instagram."