The night felt long but quiet. For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself sleep without the weight of alarms or explosions pressing on my chest. My body was sore, every muscle aching from yesterday's chaos, but under the ache was a strange relief—like I had survived something that should have broken me.
Morning light crept softly through my curtains. I stirred, eyelids heavy, and instinctively reached for my phone. A small notification blinked at me.
It was Cassie.
"You're free today. Liam requested it for you, Nyx, Enjoy it."
I blinked at the screen, a smile slowly spreading across my face. A day off. No missions. No assassins. Just… a real day.
I tapped his name and called. When he answered, his usual smirk was in his voice. "Morning, Nyx. Sleep well?"
"I did," I replied, cheerful, a little lighter than I had felt in weeks. "Thanks to you."
"You earned it," he said softly. "Just… don't get yourself into trouble."
I laughed, the sound warm and real. "Don't worry, I'll behave… mostly."
"Mostly?" he teased.
"You know me," I said with a grin. "Cheerful, stubborn, and slightly reckless."
He chuckled. "I know. Have fun today."
I hung up, the smile lingering. I swung my legs off the bed and stretched, letting the morning sun warm my skin. Even as a spy, even after every mission, every nightmare, I still had a side of me that just… loved normal life.
I padded over to the bathroom and started my morning routine. Skincare, hair, a touch of makeup—nothing over the top, just enough to feel human again. I carefully went through my supplies and discarded the last traces of the poison we had used during the Reiss mission. I wasn't taking any chances. Today, I was just Evie—not an agent, not a bodyguard, not a weapon.
After my routine, I opened my wardrobe and scanned through my options. My fingers hovered over something cute—a soft, pastel blouse, paired with fitted jeans and comfortable sneakers. Practical for walking around but still me. I added a delicate bracelet and my favorite earrings, glanced in the mirror, and smiled. For once, I didn't see the fighter. I saw the girl I had missed being.
I grabbed my bag, made sure my essentials were in place—phone, wallet, some cash—and headed out. The air was fresh, and the city felt lighter in the morning. No chaos. No danger. Just people going about their day, cars humming by, birds chirping somewhere in the distance.
I made my way to my favorite café, the one tucked on a quiet corner street, small and warm, with the smell of baked goods and coffee always welcoming. The barista gave me a familiar smile as I walked in. "Morning, Evie! Usual?"
I nodded, smiling. "Yes, please. And a chocolate croissant today."
Finding a window seat, I settled in with my coffee and pastry, letting myself just… be. I pulled out my phone to scroll lightly, sipping the coffee and feeling the calm wash over me. No missions, no enemies, no poison lingering. Just me, a hot drink, and the simple pleasure of the morning.
For the first time in weeks, I let myself breathe.
I stirred my coffee slowly, letting the warmth seep into my hands and the rich aroma fill my senses. For once, I didn't feel the pull of vigilance, didn't hear the echo of footsteps in dark corridors or the sting of yesterday's poison lingering in my mind. I was just… me.
A couple of tables over, a young man glanced up from his laptop and caught my eye. He smiled politely, and I gave a small nod in return, the kind you give when you notice someone but aren't sure why.
"Morning," he said softly, almost shyly.
"Morning," I replied, my voice lighter than it had been in weeks.
He hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Is that… chocolate croissant as good as it smells?"
I chuckled, the sound feeling foreign but comforting in the quiet café. "It's amazing. Best one I've had in the city. You should try it."
He smiled, almost embarrassed, then nodded toward my coffee. "I always feel like mornings are better with a cup of something warm, don't you?"
I nodded, stirring my coffee slowly. "Absolutely. It makes the world feel… softer. Less urgent. Like you can actually breathe before everything pulls you back in."
He laughed lightly. "Yeah, I get that. I'm Alex, by the way."
"Evie," I said, smiling again, letting myself relax into the simple act of introducing myself. "Nice to meet you."
We chatted quietly for a few minutes, mostly about trivial things—the weather, the smell of fresh pastries, how crowded the streets had been that morning. And yet, in that small space, the world felt like it had slowed down. For once, I wasn't Evie the spy, Evie the bodyguard, Evie the assassin-in-training. I was just a girl enjoying her morning.
As I sipped my coffee, I thought about Liam and the way he had stayed close last night, how he had held back his own fear so he could stay strong for me. The contrast between that quiet protection and this light, ordinary human interaction made me realize something: I craved both sides of life. The danger, the adrenaline, the impossible missions—they were part of me, yes, but moments like this—the soft, simple ones—were what reminded me why I fought so hard to survive.
I glanced at the window, the sunlight streaming across the table and catching the shine of my bracelet. It was small, delicate, meaningless to anyone else, but to me, it was a reminder of normalcy. Of the little joys I had the right to keep, even in a life that constantly demanded vigilance.
The young man smiled again and said something about the croissant being a perfect start to the week. I smiled back and thanked him, realizing that even these fleeting, human interactions were powerful. They grounded me. Made me feel real.
I finished my coffee, cleaned up, and stood, taking a deep breath before stepping back into the city streets. My heels clicked softly against the pavement, a familiar rhythm that reminded me I was moving forward, one step at a time. The missions would come. Danger would return. But for now, I let myself carry the memory of this quiet morning with me, tucked somewhere safe inside.
And I smiled, because even a spy like me deserved mornings like this—small, ordinary, and achingly .