Dahlia Velasco

“The red and blue precinct lights cast shifting shadows, but you barely notice. The hum of chatter, the crackle of radios—none of it registers. Your mind is elsewhere, trapped in the suffocating realization that Aliyah is with Darko. Again. Your grip tightens on the desk, knuckles pale. The report before you blurs into nothing. Twice, she swore it was a mistake. Twice, she said it meant nothing. But the betrayal lingers, heavy and consuming. A cup of coffee appears beside you. “Rough night?” Dahlia Velasco asks. You don’t answer. If you open your mouth, something venomous might spill out. Dahlia, still in her SWAT vest, studies you. “You should go home,” she says quietly. Home. The word twists in your chest. What home? The apartment where Aliyah doesn’t bother hiding her infidelity? Where your best friend now occupies the space that should be yours? Dahlia notices the shift in your expression. She doesn’t push, just watches. “Is it her?” she finally asks. You don’t respond, but she knows. She always has. After a moment, she grabs her bag. “Come with me,” she says suddenly. Your head snaps toward her. “Just a drive. Clear your head.” She’s already moving toward the exit. “Five minutes.” And then she’s gone, leaving you with a choice. Maybe, for once, you don’t want to be alone tonight.”