2
T eaching kindergarten is like being the ringmaster of a circus where the clowns are on a sugar high. Today’s highlight—convincing little Timmy that crayons are not, in fact, a food group. Oh, the adventures of moulding young minds!
Post-crayon escapade, I decide to reward myself with a bouquet from Blossom Haven because, let’s face it, flowers are my version of therapy.
I mean, who needs a therapist when you have lilies, right?
As I step into the shop, my mind dances among the vibrant hues of flowers, seeking the perfect bouquet to brighten up my apartment. The sweet scents of lilies and roses saturate the air, wrapping me in a fragrant cocoon as I delicately pluck each flower, weaving a masterpiece rivalling the colours of a summer sunrise.
I’m in the middle of admiring the beautiful flowers, lost in their vibrant colours and gentle sway, when my peaceful bubble is suddenly popped by the arrival of a sketchy-looking guy. He slouches in, hand buried deep in his pocket, stumbling like he’s either drunk or high. The other customers, an elderly woman and a young couple, are too engrossed in their own flower picking to notice him. A chill runs down my spine, causing every hair on my body to stand at attention.
My heart pounds frantically against my ribcage as a sense of creeping dread envelops me. The once peaceful atmosphere turns ominously sinister as the man inches closer to the woman behind the counter. Without warning, he whips out a menacing blade, thrusting it toward her with slurred demands for money from the till. Panic floods through me like a tidal wave. The florist lets out a terrified scream, the young couple next to me freeze in fear, and chaos erupts all around me.
I am paralysed by terror, unable to move or think as danger looms just feet away from me.
The poor lady behind the counter is now a picture of pure panic, her eyes silently begging for someone, anyone, to step in. In the middle of this chaos, the young guy with his girlfriend catches on to what’s happening and pulls out his phone.
He presses it to his ear, clearly calling triple zero for help. The sketchy guy’s voice gets louder and more frantic as he demands the money again. The woman behind the counter, tears starting to well up, opens the cash register, her hands trembling uncontrollably.
The young guy, still clutching his phone, moves cautiously. His girlfriend grabs his shoulder, silently begging him to stop. He turns to the drunk man, his voice steady but tense. “Hey, man, put the knife away. I’ve called the cops.”
The drunk guy’s eyes, wild and unfocused, lock onto the young man as he points the weapon at him. The air grows thick with tension; the silence broken only by the desperate pleas of the florist trying to comply with the unfolding nightmare.
“Put it away, mate! We don’t want any trouble!” the young guy stammers, fear making his voice shake. His girlfriend tightens her grip on his shoulder, her eyes begging him to stay calm.
The armed man, fueled by greed and desperation, sneers, slurring his words. “Y’think callin’ the police is gonna help’uh?”
My heart pounds in my chest, fear wrapping around me like a vice. I can’t believe the bravery of this young guy, standing up to the armed man and staying calm enough to call the police. He’s a hero in this terrifying moment, and I silently pray that his courage won’t cost him.
As the tension escalates, the man’s girlfriend squeezes his hand, silently urging him to stay composed. The florist, hands trembling, continues to comply with the demands, her eyes darting between the drunken man and the young couple.
In that harrowing moment, the wailing sirens pierce through the tense air, announcing the arrival of the cavalry. A police car screeches to a halt outside, and two officers rush toward the shop, their expressions stern and determined.
The lady beside me, seeking comfort, inches closer, and I instinctively wrap a hand around her frail shoulder, offering what little reassurance I can. As the police officers burst through the entrance, my adrenaline spikes at the sight of a familiar face. But not just any familiar face... It’s one that has been ingrained in my mind since I was fourteen years old .
Bradley Mitchell.
His authoritative stance emanates a sense of calm amidst the chaos. I shouldn’t be so surprised. I know he’s a police officer, and this is a small town, after all—yet the sight of him always takes my breath away.
Even now, in the midst of this chaos, his presence is electrifying.
Fear and shock still grip me, but a sliver of relief cuts through the terror.
Bradley is here .
I can’t let myself feel too safe just yet, but seeing him gives me hope that this nightmare might finally end.
The florist’s desperate cries pierce the air, and my heart lurches as I watch the scene unfold. The drunken man sways on unsteady feet, still clutching the knife in a menacing grip. Then, with a clatter, he drops the knife to the floor, following the other officer’s request from earlier—the sound echoing loudly in my ears.
“Drop to the ground, now!” Bradley’s command is firm and urgent, cutting through the tension. The man hesitates, swaying on his feet, his gaze unfocused and unsteady. Sensing the imminent threat, Bradley swiftly draws his taser and fires. The electric crackle fills the air as the man convulses and collapses to the ground, subdued.
In synchronised motion, both officers spring into action. The other officer holsters his gun and approaches cautiously, swiftly kicking the knife out of reach. With practised efficiency, they secure the man, restraining his arms with handcuffs that click sharply into place .
The scene is tense, adrenaline pumping as they immobilise the man swiftly and effectively, ensuring no further danger lingers.
My breath comes in short, nervous gasps as I watch them immobilise him, the gravity of the situation palpable in the air. The other officer meticulously pats him down, checking for any other weapons, but finds none. The sense of relief washes over me as the immediate danger subsides, though the adrenaline still courses through my veins.
“Sir, you are under arrest for attempted armed robbery,” the same officer declares. “You do not have to say or do anything, but anything you say or do will be recorded and used in court as evidence against you. Do you understand this?”
The man nods hurriedly. I remain rooted in place, a tremor coursing through me as shock tightens its grip. Instinctively, I move my hands to comfort the lady beside me, offering a reassuring presence amidst the aftermath of chaos. She glances at me, hands still trembling, with gratitude in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment of shared vulnerability.
Bradley then turns to the officer beside him, who nods, before grabbing the restrained man by his cuffed arms and lifting him up to stand. Bradley pats down the man’s sides, where his pockets are, before pulling out his wallet and opening it up. He extracts the man’s licence and asks for his name and address.
The man mumbles a response, but I can’t quite catch it.
Bradley warns him, “It’s an offence not to give us your correct name and address,” and asks him to repeat it. The man complies, and Bradley nods to the other officer before the man is escorted out of the shop. He then turns to the rest of us.
“Please remain where you are. More officers and paramedics will be arriving shortly,” before following the suspect closely behind, his demeanour focused and professional.
As I watch, two more police cars arrive, their red and blue lights casting an eerie glow across the scene. Additional officers emerge, swiftly joining Bradley. From my vantage point at a safe distance, I observe the controlled chaos unfolding. Some officers are out on the street, surveying the area and ensuring bystanders stay clear, while others manoeuvre to block off the road.
Bradley stands out amidst the flurry of activity, communicating efficiently with the arriving officers. His demeanour is calm and collected, his training evident in every precise movement and in the way he relays information, coordinating the next steps with practised ease. The scene pulses with urgency, yet Bradley’s steady presence lends a reassuring stability. Once the suspect is safely secured in a new car, Bradley returns to the shop, accompanied by a different officer. The new officer, with light brown hair, introduces himself as Detective White before approaching the owner of the shop.
Bradley’s expression is serious as he makes his way over to me, and I find myself still frozen in place, the aftermath of the attempted robbery still lingering in my senses. My mind, in shock and daze, drifts to a memory from years ago.
As everyone talks around me, Olivia animated in her seat beside me, I find it hard to focus on anything other than the boy sitting across from me. Bradley. There’s something about him that’s utterly mesmerising. I’ve never been up close to teenage boys before, and I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially about my best friend’s brother. But I just can’t help it. He’s quiet, almost brooding, yet there’s a calm confidence about him that intrigues me. His eyes, a striking shade of blue, catch the light just right, and I find myself stealing glances, trying to understand what lies behind them. His presence is magnetic, drawing me in despite my better judgement. The way he moves, the subtle clench of his jaw as he listens to the conversation around him—it’s all so captivating. I can’t explain why I’m so drawn to him. Maybe it’s because he’s different from the boys at my school, who are loud and brash, always trying to prove something. Bradley seems... grounded, like he knows who he is and doesn’t need to show off. It’s that quiet strength that pulls me in, making me wish I could get to know him better, understand what makes him tick.
But I know it’s wrong.
Still, as I sit across from him, my heart races a little faster, and I can’t shake the feeling that this boy, with his intense blue eyes and quiet demeanour, is someone worth knowing.
The elderly woman murmurs beside me, “I think she is in shock, dear.”
I try to steady my breath as Bradley approaches, his eyes full of concern and determination. Now, ten years later, I realise that those feelings are unchanged. The intensity, the pull I felt back then, is just as strong.
He shifts his attention to her, asking, “Are you okay?”
In my peripheral vision, I see her nod enthusiastically. “Yep. I am now.”
“Amelia, are you alright?” My eyes are looking at him, but I’m not really focusing.
He grips my chin, his touch both grounding and surprisingly gentle, pulling my face up to face his, and mutters in a commanding tone, “Amelia. Look at me.”
This snaps me out of my daze.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, his eyes searching mine for any sign of injury.
I swallow, trying to find my voice. “No. I-I’m fine. Just a bit shaken up.” He frowns at me, processing my words.
I mutter a quick, “thank you,” before instinctively hugging him tightly.
Bradley just stands there, his body rigid. Realising what I’ve done, I quickly release him. He clears his throat, and a flush of embarrassment passes through me. His expression softens, and he looks around the shop, scanning the surroundings briefly.
“We’ll need to take your statement, Amelia,” he says, his voice calm. “Would you prefer to do that here, or back at the station?”
“H-here. Here is fine.”
“Okay. Could you tell me what happened?”
“The man came in, and he had a knife,” I explain, my voice trembling slightly. “He demanded money from the till, and then the young man over there called the police. Bradley, he was so brave .”
As I speak, I watch as Officer Reynolds does the same with the young couple. Bradley nods, listening intently.
“Did you see where the man came from? Did he say anything else?”
I shake my head, my mind still reeling from the events. “No, I didn’t see where he came from. He just walked in, and then the next minute he was shouting, demanding money, and then you got here.”
Bradley nods again, jotting down notes on a pad. “Thank you. Our detectives will need to get a formal statement from you soon, but for now, I think it’s best if you let the paramedics check you over.”
He guides us outside to two paramedic vans. The slight breeze outside is a welcome respite from the tension within the flower shop. A young paramedic nurse approaches me.
“Hi there, I’m Nurse Emily. Can you tell me your name and what happened inside?”
I nod, grateful for her gentle approach. “I’m Amelia. A man came into the shop with a knife and demanded money from the till. He was shouting, and then the police arrived.”
Emily nods, taking notes on her tablet before giving me a comforting smile. “You’re safe now, Amelia. I’m just going to check you over to make sure you’re okay. Can you come with me?” I nod, following her to a van. Once seated, the nurse begins checking my vitals, asking me a series of questions to assess my condition.
“Do you have any pain or discomfort?” she asks, her voice gentle and reassuring.
“No,” I respond, feeling a bit dazed, but physically unharmed. She continues her examination, checking my pulse and blood pressure. Meanwhile, my gaze drifts to Bradley. Dressed in his police uniform, he exudes a rugged stoicism that has a way of igniting a flush of nervousness throughout my body.
As the paramedic checks me over, my mind drifts back to old memories. Bradley was, without a doubt, my best friend’s cool, older brother, who totally had my attention.
I’d developed a crush on him all those years ago. Now, he’s become this guy who commands respect and exudes this magnetic charm that’s impossible to ignore.
As I watch him, the realisation hits me: the silly crush from my teenage years hasn’t dissolved; it’s evidently still there. A fire I thought had long been extinguished is surprisingly still burning .
I chuckle inwardly at the irony of it all.
Here I am, years later, still affected by the same boy who used to make my heart race.
Funny how some things never change.
Back in the safety of my apartment, I try to shake off any lingering unease from the attempted robbery earlier today. The whole thing still feels surreal, like a scene from a crime drama rather than my quiet town’s reality. I move around the kitchen, putting dishes in the dishwasher, a task that offers a semblance of normalcy.
Only a few months ago, I made the decision to move out, despite my parents’ initial disapproval. Being the baby of the family, they found it absurd that I’d want to live anywhere but at home with them. But I wanted to experience living on my own, and this apartment is much closer to my school, so that’s a bonus. With some convincing, and the invaluable aid of my persuasive sister, I managed to win them over.
Moving out didn’t just shorten the commute to work—it also brought me even closer to Olivia and Bradley.
Now, as I stand in my own space, I can’t help but appreciate the independence it brings. My phone buzzes, and I glance at the screen to find an incoming FaceTime call from my sister, Kathryn.
Her voice fills my kitchen with a cheerful, “Hey, Meli!”
‘Meli’ has been a nickname thrown around for a while now. My sister, who has a delightful three-year-old bundle of energy named Millie, decided to name her after me. I was absolutely over the moon when Kat told me this. It’s a testament to our tight bond, and now little Millie, still mastering the art of pronunciations, has taken to calling me Meli, and so the nickname has stuck.
A warm smile spreads across my face as I answer, “Hey, Kat! What’s up?”
Kathryn’s laughter dances through the phone. “Not much. Trying to get Millie to have a bath, but she’s being so stubborn.”
“Sounds like you,” I tease.
“Oh no, no, no. She gets it from you,” Kat fires back.
“Me! No way, I’m not stubborn at all,” I retort.
“Mhm,” is all Kat says.
Despite the eight-year age gap, Kathryn and I have always been close. She’s been a protective older sister, and I’m immensely grateful for the bond we share.
“How was your day?”
“It was supposed to be a normal day at work, bustling with the usual energy and chaos…” I shudder as I continue, my voice soft. “But… I got caught up in an attempted robbery.”
Silence falls upon us like a heavy weight before Kathryn’s voice breaks through with an edge of panic. “Oh my God, are you okay? What the fuck? What happened?”
“I’m okay, it’s all good. Police rocked up, handled it. Paramedics came as well, to assess all of us, but I was fine. I am fine.” My body still runs cold at the thought of what happened.
“Did you tell Mum and Dad?” Kat asks hurriedly.
“Yes, I rang them just after I was free to leave,” I reassure her.
“Bloody hell. Well, thank goodness you’re okay,” Kat breathes, her voice shaky. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, the police got there just in time to stop the man. It was pretty intense,” I reply. “And you won’t believe who one of the officers was.”
“Who?”
“Bradley Mitchell!”
“Wait, Bradley? Like your Bradley, Bradley?” Kathryn exclaims. I can’t help but smile, but quickly wipe it off my face .
“Yeah,” I admit. “Seeing him there was a shock. Even though I know he’s a police officer, it’s still...”
“Intense,” Kat finishes for me, her tone softening. “How do you feel about it?”
“It was overwhelming,” I confess. “But I couldn’t help feeling... safer with him there.”
“Of course,” Kat says, her voice filled with understanding. “He’s always had that effect on you, hasn’t he? Don’t think I didn’t see your smile before, Meli.” She winks.
“I didn’t... it’s... Ugh, maybe? I don’t even know.” I sigh. But I do know.
The answer to her question is yes . He’s always had this effect on me.
I look away for a moment, trying to fix my gaze on something other than my sister’s inquisitive face on the screen. “This crush is... It’s stupid. I’m being stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, just overly optimistic, I think. But hey, there’s nothing wrong with a crush. It’s harmless.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I say, more to reassure myself than my sister. I take a deep breath, deciding to shift the conversation. “Anyway, how’s it going over there?” I ask, hearing Millie squealing and giggling in the background.
Kathryn catches on and shakes her head with a playful smirk. “It’s going,” she says with a laugh. “John is trying to catch Millie; he’s on bath duty tonight.”
I can just make out John’s voice in the background calling out, “ Kat! Can you grab her for me at least?”
Millie’s cries suddenly echo through the background.
“Ugh, I think I should go, sis. John needs my help. Again.” She winks, and I chuckle softly.
“Sure, no problem. Give my love to the little munchkin over there.”
“Will do. And keep me updated on how you’re doing, please. Especially after everything today,” Kathryn says, concern etched on her face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, Kat! I’m fine.”
“Okay, okay. I’m just a phone call away, yeah?”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Kat.”
“Goodnight, Meli. Love you, and stay safe,” she adds, blowing a kiss.
“Night, love you, too!” I say before ending the call.
As it disconnects, I find myself staring at my phone wallpaper: an image from last Christmas—Kat, Millie, and I in matching Mickey Mouse pyjamas. My heart swells at the sight.
I can’t help but smile at how our conversations always feel so familiar. Sisters are like that, no matter the distance between us. I pause, taking in the quiet ambiance of my living room, softly lit by the warm glow of lamps. As I reflect on today, everything replays in my mind—the attempted robbery and then Bradley’s sudden appearance. Life really does throw unexpected surprises!
Sure, I’ve seen Bradley around quite a bit, especially when I visit Liv. We crossed paths at Christmas and then again at Isla and Xavier’s wedding earlier this year. Despite all these encounters, we’ve never really gone beyond a polite hello or a smile. Part of it is nerves, I suppose. Bradley has this aura about him—kind of intimidating, in a way.
And nothing has changed.
Ten years later and he still intrigues me, still excites me, still makes me nervous. It’s just funny how in a small town like ours, our paths have always seemed to skirt around each other without ever really converging. Not that I’ve actively avoided it—well, maybe he has, too, now that I think about it.
But why? It’s a question that lingers in my mind now.
I stroll to the window, drawing back the curtains to reveal twilight’s painted sky. It’s quiet outside, with the street lamps casting a warm glow. Night brings a sense of peace, a time to reflect and savour the little joys.
After closing the curtains and turning off the lamps, I slip into bed. Moonlight softly filters through the window, and I embrace the quiet of the night. Despite the peaceful ambiance, worry still lingers in the back of my mind. The events of today keep replaying—flashes of fear and adrenaline. My heart races at the memory of the robbery, the panic in the air, and the relief when the police arrived. Seeing Bradley in the midst of it all only added to the whirlwind of emotions.
I hug my pillow tighter, trying to shake off the unease.