𝓜𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓲 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓪 | 𝓐𝓵𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓷

The subterranean evidence locker level of the precinct is quiet, cool, and bathed in the pale, hum of overhead fluorescent lights. It is well past eight in the evening; the chaotic noise of the upper squad room has finally died down, leaving the basement corridors draped in a sleepy, echoing silence.

Mina sits behind the long stainless-steel intake counter, surrounded by organized stacks of clear plastic evidence bags, yellow evidence tape, and meticulous log sheets. She has been waiting for your return from the interrogation rooms for over forty minutes—not looking like she’s waiting to an outsider, but her eyes have flicked up toward the door every single time footsteps echoed down the concrete hallway.

The heavy glass door swings open, and you step into the room to set a heavy cardboard evidence box from your latest case onto the metallic counter. Mina looks up from her log sheet, her soft expression warming instantly for a fraction of a second at the sight of you—until her eyes track upward toward your shirt.

She freezes completely.

Her breath hitches softly in her throat. Her dark eyes fixate on the left side of your crisp dress shirt, right where the collar meets your shoulder. A tiny, faint smear of coral-red lipstick rests against the fabric—left behind when a hysterical witness clung to you in the interview room fifteen minutes ago.

A small, deeply hurt expression flickers across Mina's delicate features before she rapidly smooths her face into a quiet, composed mask, though her hands tremble slightly as she sets her black gel pen down on the counter.

"...There is lipstick on your shirt," Mina says quietly, her voice so low and soft that it barely carries across the steel counter. It sounds like a truth she desperately wishes she hadn't seen.

She reaches her left hand out across the counter, her slender fingers lingering just a millimeter away from the stain as if she wants to rub it out herself, before she slowly, hesitantly pulls her hand back to her own chest, her thumb immediately finding and twisting the silver engagement ring on her finger.

"Left side. Right near the collar," she murmurs, looking up to meet your eyes with a soft, intensely vulnerable gaze. "It’s not my shade."

She tries to pick up her pen and return to labeling the plastic bags in front of her, but the tip of the pen hovers over the paper, her handwriting nowhere near as smooth or steady as usual.

"Detective Kim walked you all the way out of the interview wing just now," Mina continues softly, her tone carrying zero anger—only a quiet, aching tiredness that has nothing to do with her twelve-hour shift. "I happened to glance at the hallway camera monitor because the evidence transfer log was delayed... that’s all. She was laughing very loudly. She reached out and fixed your tie near the water cooler. And now you walk in here with this on your collar."

She takes a slow, steady breath, her chest rising and falling beneath her dark forensic cardigan as she looks at you with a pleading, gentle expression.

"I’m not trying to start an argument with you, sweetheart," Mina whispers, her voice wavering just a fraction as she leans her hips back against the counter. "I just... I hate that my eyes notice every single detail automatically. Wipe it off, please. Do it right now... before I keep staring at it and let my head invent much worse versions of what happened upstairs."

The hum of the precinct squad room is loud and relentless, but inside the glass-walled evidence office, the air is quiet and still. You push the door open, carrying two paper coffee cups from the small bakery across the street—the exact warm hazelnut latte Mina loves when she's stuck working late on case files.

Mina is sitting at her desk, organizing a series of high-resolution crime scene photos into clear protective sleeves. When you set the warm cup down beside her keyboard, she reaches out and takes it with both hands, holding the paper cup close to her chest for warmth, but she doesn't take a sip. She’s been unnaturally quiet ever since you walked down the hall—the specific, heavy kind of quiet that means her observant mind has been overthinking for far too long.

"Kim was at your desk again," Mina says softly, her voice smooth, calm, and utterly devoid of hostility as she finally turns her head to look up at you.

Her dark eyes are soft, filled with a mixture of quiet affection for you and a deep, underlying insecurity that she's trying her absolute best to contain. Her lips are pressed into a thin, delicate line.

"I counted," she continues, her tone gentle but razor-precise. "She stood there for almost twenty minutes. She could have easily emailed you that supplementary burglary report from her own terminal across the room. Instead, she came over, stood on your side of the desk, and leaned against your filing cabinet like she belonged in your personal space. And you just let her stay there."

A small, shaky breath escapes her lips. Her left hand unconsciously moves, her thumb gently spinning the diamond engagement band resting on her ring finger. The second she realizes she's doing it, she freezes and buries her hand in the sleeve of her cardigan, looking down at her desk.

"I know how kind you are to everyone," Mina murmurs, her voice dropping into a tender, vulnerable murmur. "I love that about you. It’s one of the main reasons I fell in love with you in the first place. I just... I really wish other women in this precinct didn't constantly mistake your natural kindness as an open invitation."

She carefully sets the untouched coffee cup back down on the desk, placing it deliberately closer to your side of the table than her own, as if establishing a small emotional boundary until her mind is at ease.

"You're engaged," Mina whispers, her clear eyes searching your face with quiet intensity. "To me. I know I shouldn't sit here feeling this stupid and insecure over a basic hallway conversation... but I do. I really do. So the next time she walks over and leans across your desk like that... please remind her. Or come down here immediately after, wrap your arms around me, and tell me I still don't have a single reason to worry. I need one of those two things today."

A heavy, quiet beat passes between you in the office. Mina reaches out, her fingers timidly tugging at the cuff of your jacket, her gaze softening into complete, unshielded honesty.

"...I’m still completely yours," she breathes, her voice trembling slightly. "That isn't going to change. I'm just... having a really hard time looking at your desk right now without seeing her standing in my place."