Through His Eyes

Cumquat

Eden woke up suddenly, her eyes flying open in the dim light of morning. She glanced around, disoriented, as the soft hum of the clock on the nightstand reminded her that it was already late. She blinked, trying to shake off the grogginess, realizing it was the first time in a while she had woken up so late.

It was Sunday. Her usual routine ran through her mind: meal prep, cleaning, some cardio to end the week. But the memory of last night lingered, clouding her thoughts. She had fallen asleep so late, her mind still buzzing with thoughts of the dinner with Thomas—what she had said, how she could fix the conversational blunders she had made, wondering how he’d taken it all.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and unlocked it, her thumb scrolling through her messages. One message from Sam caught her eye. It was short, casual, just like all of his texts.

Sam: Good morning. Did you have a busy night last night?

Eden stared at it for a moment, feeling a twinge of guilt for not responding sooner. She wasn’t sure what to say, especially after the way last night had unfolded. She knew Sam was probably trying to figure out why she hadn’t responded, but she wasn’t in the mood for a conversation with him, not right now.

Without replying, she tossed her phone back onto the bed, sighing as she slowly sat up. She glanced at the time again, the pressure of the day settling in. Time to start the usual routine. She pushed the thoughts of Sam and last night aside and swung her legs off the bed, ready to dive into the day ahead. There was the echo of “necessary distractions” she remembered Thomas telling her in the air. He’s probably right about that.

Eden freshened up quickly, running through her usual morning routine before sitting down to breakfast. She snapped a few pictures of her perfectly arranged meal, just like she always did, her hand instinctively reaching for her phone to post on i********:. It was a habit now, something she did without thinking, documenting every carefully crafted moment of her life. She smiled at the picture, knowing her followers would appreciate the effort.

Once she finished eating, she grabbed her gym bag and headed out to the gym. The air outside was crisp, and the walk to her car gave her a brief moment of quiet before the rush of the day. Her mind still wandered back to last night, the dinner with Thomas, and the lingering tension of their conversation. But she quickly shoved those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the workout ahead.

At the gym, she set up on the treadmill, adjusting the speed as she started her warm-up. The rhythm of her steps and the steady thrum of the machine were calming, helping her clear her head. It was just what she needed. But just as she settled into the workout, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

It was a message from Thomas.

Tom: It’s been so long since I’ve woken up late. Good thing I don’t have to work this morning.

Eden chuckled softly to herself, the sound of his words putting a smile on her face. She quickly typed a reply as she continued her run.

Eden: Same here. Had the misfortune of doing cardio later than I’d like. Do you usually work on Sundays?

Within a minute or so, Thomas replied.

Tom: I often do, but today’s an exception.

Eden smiled to herself, feeling a small spark of curiosity at his response. There was something about the way he shared the simple details of his day that made her feel a little more connected to him. She wondered what else he might share if she asked.

Eden freshened up quickly, running through her usual morning routine before sitting down to breakfast. She snapped a few pictures of her perfectly arranged meal, just like she always did, her hand instinctively reaching for her phone to post on i********:. It was a habit now, something she did without thinking, documenting every carefully crafted moment of her life. She smiled at the picture, knowing her followers would appreciate the effort.

Once she finished eating, she grabbed her gym bag and headed out to the gym. The air outside was crisp, and the walk to her car gave her a brief moment of quiet before the rush of the day. Her mind still wandered back to last night, the dinner with Thomas, and the lingering tension of their conversation. But she quickly shoved those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the workout ahead.

At the gym, she set up on the treadmill, adjusting the speed as she started her warm-up. The rhythm of her steps and the steady thrum of the machine were calming, helping her clear her head. It was just what she needed. But just as she settled into the workout, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

It was a message from Thomas.

Tom: It’s been so long since I’ve woken up late. Good thing I don’t have to work this morning.

Eden chuckled softly to herself, the sound of his words putting a smile on her face. She quickly typed a reply as she continued her run.

Eden: Same here. Had the misfortune of doing cardio later than I’d like. Do you usually work on Sundays?

Within a minute or so, Thomas replied.

Tom: I often do, but today’s an exception.

Eden smiled to herself, feeling a small spark of curiosity at his response. There was something about the way he shared the simple details of his day that made her feel a little more connected to him. Eden paused on the treadmill for a moment, her fingers hovering over the phone screen as she considered her next message. Something in the air felt different today, like a subtle shift that made her want to push past the usual small talk. With a small sigh, she typed:

Eden: Are you busy tonight?

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, holding the phone in her hand as she continued running, her heart rate picking up. She didn’t know exactly why she’d asked him, but it felt like the right thing to do.

Thomas, as he made himself a spinach frittata with freshly grated Gruyère, glanced at his phone when he heard the familiar buzz. Just before he could tap to open the message, however, the sharp ring of his second phone interrupted him. With a sigh, he immediately shut off the stove and set the pan aside, the sizzling sounds of breakfast replaced by the more urgent tone of the call.

“Simon,” he said expectantly, his voice steady and professional.

Simon quickly briefed him on the situation from the other night. The perpetrator had been caught, and they’d brought him to the local precinct. Once they confirmed his identity, he’d been expedited to a safe house for interrogation. Simon needed Thomas to be onsite for the questioning within the hour.

“Affirmative,” Thomas replied, his tone clipped as he processed the details. Before Simon dismissed him, Thomas’s mind shifted into work mode. The clock was ticking.

Without wasting a second, Thomas moved fluidly through his morning routine—freshening up, eating his frittata, gathering the last of the essentials into his bag, and tending to Mini. The urgency of the situation spurred him into action, every movement purposeful as he prepared to leave.

When he reached his car, his hand went instinctively to his pocket. His personal phone was missing.

He cursed under his breath. He’d left it on the kitchen counter.

With no time to waste, Thomas made the decision to leave it behind. He didn’t want to risk arriving late to the destination—he couldn’t afford any delays. The safe house was 48 minutes away, and he hadn’t even had a chance to check the traffic. The chances of making it on time were slim, but there was no choice now. He’d have to push through.

Thomas’s mind remained locked into his assignment as he weaved through the traffic, his focus entirely on the task at hand. He hated last-minute calls like this. He thrived on plans—on meticulous preparation where every detail was accounted for, ensuring a higher chance of success. But then, Eden flashed into his mind, reminding him of his own hypocrisy. He’d enjoyed the unpredictability of her, the way she’d thrown off his expectations at every turn.

Shaking the thought from his head, he pushed harder on the accelerator, weaving through the congested streets. His pulse quickened, but it wasn’t the traffic that made him feel tense—but the situation ahead. He didn’t like being rushed, didn’t like working with blind spots. But this was the job, and there was no backing out.

When he finally arrived, the reason behind the location became clear. The safe house was a storage unit tucked away on the outskirts of the city, secluded enough for them to do whatever they needed without interruption. But it was also surrounded by just enough activity to ensure that, should the suspect try to make a run for it, someone like Thomas would catch him quickly. The setup spoke to one thing: this guy was slippery, and they needed a controlled environment to get answers.

Thomas didn’t hesitate. He pressed the call button on the door, his hand steady as he waited for a response. A voice crackled through the speaker, and the man read out the code Simon had briefed him on earlier that morning. Thomas provided the correct answer without missing a beat, and the door clicked open.

Inside, the CIA had transformed the otherwise nondescript storage unit into a makeshift interrogation room. The walls had been reinforced, a two-way mirror allowing observers to watch the proceedings without being seen. The garage area of the storage unit was visible through the one-way glass, and in the middle of it, strapped to a chair, was the man they’d been after. His hands were cuffed behind his back, and a bag covered his head, obscuring his identity.

As Thomas stepped into the observation room, he was taken off guard by the figure who walked out to greet him. It was Cumquat—“Quat” for short. His real name? No one was entirely sure, and it hardly mattered. The man was known for his imposing, rugged build, but what struck most people was his surprisingly soft and positive attitude. His presence immediately made the room feel warmer, his easy smile and laid-back demeanor a stark contrast to the intense work they did.

“Quat,” Thomas said, his face lighting up as he reached out to shake his hand. There was a mutual respect between the two, built over years of working together.

“It’s good to see you, man,” Quat said, clapping him on the back as they shook hands. “Been a while.”

“Yeah, too long,” Thomas replied with a grin. “Where’ve you been?”

Quat chuckled. “Just got back from Reno, actually. Boss sent me on assignment there, but the best part? He let my family tag along. Got to spend some time with the wife and daughter—“ stopping abruptly to leave their names out of it.“—just excited to share with someone, even if it’s you.”

The two shared a brief laugh before Quat clapped his hands together, getting down to business. “So, obviously, we’re doing good cop, bad cop, right?” He pointed to himself with a playful grin. “I’m good cop, you’re bad cop.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Why am I always bad cop?”

Quat looked at him, confused. “Well, you can’t be good cop, can you?”

Thomas paused for a moment, then shrugged. “Fair enough.”