Rebirth Into My Second Chance

Waiting outside the police station for Max to emerge, I couldn't help but notice that acrid scent of sulfuric acid on him as he approached, triggering my gag reflex once again. He sniffed himself with a frown of displeasure.

Ronald leaned in for a sniff, too. "Still smells after three washes? I can't catch a whiff. Ms. Floyd, what kind of super nose do you have?"

For some reason, my senses were on high alert today. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead, the nauseating smell etched into my very being, which was unforgettable and revolting.

"I'll wash up again," Max decided, leaving, but I started vomiting again by the side.

"It's okay. I've probably just got a bit of a stomach bug," I said.

Feeling the physical toll and the mental strain from witnessing Gabrielle's demise, Claude's indifference, and the sight of a pregnant woman's body drenched in sulfuric acid, I knew I was pushed to my breaking point. Ronald patted my back gently. "Ms. Floyd, maybe you should see a therapist. In my years of police work, it seems the trauma from when Daniel hurt you has left a deep impact."

I stopped retching to look at him. Even Ronald thought I needed professional help.

"She's exhausted today. A bit of rest, and she'll be fine," he assured

I was too dizzy to protest. Not long after the car started, I drifted off to

at home with Max sitting in my living room, his long legs crossed as

so engrossed that he didn't notice me until I stood

said, "You're awake? Richard called and wants

this and left, making me frown slightly. Was

he reached the door, he suddenly

escaped me. Max stayed to say

and you can ensure I don't drink. Otherwise, who knows might indulge." I teased him, stepping closer and deliberately brushing against him. It was getting fun to

and detached. But in the privacy of my apartment, there seemed to be a different dynamic between us, though he never made

a warning look in his