John stirred slightly at the sound. But to Tara’s relief, her boyfriend’s eyes remained closed. It was just a nightmare, she said to herself. He didn’t notice.

Before this week, she had managed to go two months without a nightmare occurring, but this was the second one in the past four days and it troubled her. She had thought therapy had worked, and so did John, and she couldn’t bear to tell him that it was happening again. He was finally worrying less about her—he seemed happier—and Tara wanted to keep it that way.

John’s dark blond hair pointed in all different directions as it did every morning. She reached her hand out, brushing it lightly against his forehead and pushing the few strands away, before leaning over and kissing him.

He began to sit up. “Coffee,” he groaned.

Tara smiled in return before throwing her short brown hair up into a messy bun.

“I’ll go put some on now.” She pulled back the covers and walked barefoot across the cold hardwood floor.

As she prepared the coffee, she looked over her island counter at her newly painted walls and beautiful hardwood floored living room and couldn’t help but marvel at how perfect their life had become. It had been two weeks since they moved into their new apartment in Washington, D.C., and it was finally beginning to feel like home, affirming to her that their lives were moving in the right direction. They were building a life together, and Tara knew it was only a matter of time before John would propose. She just hoped her psychological baggage wouldn’t ruin it.

“How’s that coffee comin’?” John asked as he walked into the kitchen.

Tara spun around toward the machine, realizing that it was finished brewing, and poured it into his mug. Tara smiled as John reached around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. He was taller than her, lean but slightly muscular. He wasn’t someone who worked out often, but he had a naturally large build that always somehow made Tara’s worries feel less significant—his arms always felt safe.

His hands slid away as he grabbed hold of the mug and took a seat on the barstool.

“Ugh…I don’t want to go to work,” he muttered as he took his first sip of coffee.

Tara sighed. It had only been a week since they both started their new jobs—him in accounting and her in the FBI—but John had already made it clear that he wasn’t enjoying it, and it gave Tara an unsettling feeling. It was the only setback in the perfect life they were moving toward, and she knew that if the feeling didn’t go away, it was inevitable that something would need to change.

“Just give it time, it’ll get better,” she said as she took a sip, but John only stared at his coffee in silence, as if expecting that response.

She wanted him to feel what she felt—thrill and passion. Even though her first week as an FBI agent was filled with paperwork and research, she knew they were just easing her in before her first case.