Arthur woke before her and didn't move, just lay on his side watching her in the pale early light. He was careful with his gaze, as if he still couldn't believe he was allowed to have her, as though it were a dream and any movement might wake him.
She was on her back; one arm resting across her middle, her hair was loose against the pillow. Her sleepy face had quality he hadn't seen before temporary absence of the careful attention she carried everywhere, the line between her brows was gone, her breathing was slow and even. He didn't reach for her, just watched, content to stay in the moment.
After a while, she woke up, blinked at the ceiling then turned her head to find him already awake.
"You're watching me sleep."
"I tend to appreciate meaningful and beautiful views."
She studied him for a moment before her expression softened. While he was still getting dressed, she made coffee, moving by instinct to find what she needed and had two mugs ready by the time he appeared in the doorway in a grey T-shirt and dark trousers.
He saw her standing at his counter and for a moment, imagined a whole life like this. He walked over, hugged her from behind, held her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.
"You know, I rented this flat for the promised river view. Turns out, you can only see it if you stand at just the right angle in the bathroom window."
"Did you complain?" She turned to face him without breaking the embrace.
"I chose to appreciate it proportionally." He pulled her closer with his arms still around her waist, "A partial river view is still a river view."
She smiled, "That's a very measured response to disappointment."
"I've had practice." He looked at his coffee.
She looked at him, "My coffee is disappointment?"
Arthur didn't respond; he knew he was in trouble, he simply kissed her and took a sip of coffee, "Now it's better."
She laughed, really laughed and dabbed him playfully. Outside the kitchen window, the city carried on with its early weekend bustle. She had her shoes on, her coat in hand, "I'll call you."
"I know you will." His voice was sure as he walked her to the door, kissed her once, his hands rested at the back of her neck, "Drive home safe."
"I will." She walked down the four flights without looking back, the morning air was cool and the street was quiet, she walked to her car and stopped beside it. She stood in the street, Arthur's words echoed in her mind over and over, "Drive home safe… drive home safe."
He said it today, so naturally, it was a small, warm gesture of care, but he hadn't shown it that day. She ran back to his apartment; he was clearing the table when she walked through the door, he looked at her and stopped what he was doing, he didn't ask why she was back.
"That day, when I told you we were all at risk, I was scared and worried for you, but you didn't seem worried for me." She set her coat down and looked into his eyes, "You told me to drive home safe for a quick twenty-minute drive, but you didn't say it when I was heading out to find Chen, thinking I was in serious danger. Turns out I wasn't and you knew it."
He held her gaze in silence, she had half expected him to deny it, to offer some vague excuse she could cling to, but instead, he simply nodded, "Yes."
"Was I just a thing? An assignment, the case-adjacent excuse to get close?" Her voice almost cracked, but it held steady.
"I won't insult you by pretending otherwise, it started that way."
"I was frightened for you specifically, you looked at me, saw my fear and let me carry it. You could've just said you were safe, that I didn't need to worry about you, that you couldn't explain right now but you were fine and that my worry was for no reason."
He had nothing to offer and seemed to know it. She looked at him for a long moment, then around the flat that smelled of coffee and old paper, his jacket still draped over the chair, her mug still on the table, she grabbed her coat, "You managed a situation."
"Mira..."
"You stood there, you managed the situation and you let me feel all of it when you didn't have to, that's the part I can't get over." She walked out the door without looking back, though she knew he was watching her.
The pale morning light that had seemed so gentle just minutes ago now felt cold, it was throwing sharp, unrelenting shadows across the kitchen, the smell of coffee still hung in the air, a bittersweet trace of the domestic life they had briefly convinced themselves was possible.
Arthur stood motionless by the counter, the apartment's silence was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of weekend traffic four floors below, he didn't follow her, he knew there was no fixing this with a quick remark or a careful reply. For a man who prided himself on staying steps ahead and calculating every angle, he hadn't accounted for the weight of her memory, his eyes fell to the table, her mug sat half full.
Her words hit harder than any shouting ever could because they were true, he'd done it, looked at her fear, measured it against his mission and decided that letting her think he was in danger was the smartest way to keep things moving.
He stood at the window and watched as her car faded into the early morning bustle of the city, he lingered there for hours, the coffee grew cold beside him as the pale morning light gave way to the harsh brightness of midday. He'd always been content with partial things, a half-truth, a partial view, a partial life tucked away behind walls he'd built himself. He thought it had been enough, but when he finally reached for her abandoned mug and felt the cold ceramic in his palm, Arthur understood the flaw in his design.
You can appreciate a partial river view, but you cannot partially love someone and expect them to stay.
To be continued...