Behind the badge

What is my worth?

I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand. Groggily, I reached for it, checking the time. It was barely 8:00 AM, but I had a feeling today was going to be one of those days.

Another text from Tim.

Tim: "Training in an hour. Be ready."

Great. Another drill. Another reminder that I wasn't perfect at this whole "cop" thing yet.

I let out a slow breath and stared at the ceiling for a moment, my mind wandering. I wasn't just dealing with the stress of training. I was dealing with the weight of expectations, both from the world around me and the one I'd placed on myself. But what scared me the most was that I hadn't gotten over the past. I hadn't gotten over Chris.

Thinking about him was like opening an old wound I tried to keep closed. He was the kind of guy who made me feel like I was never good enough. He'd chip away at my confidence until I started to doubt everything—my looks, my ability to succeed, and even my own worth. It wasn't just the words he said. It was how he made me feel, like no matter how hard I tried, I was always falling short.

The scars weren't just on the outside. They were in my head, replaying every word, every argument. Sometimes, I wondered if I could ever feel whole again. If I could ever trust someone the way I trusted him, before everything fell apart.

I pulled myself out of bed, trying to shake off the dark thoughts. I had to focus. The camera would be rolling soon, and I couldn't afford to fall apart now.

Training with Tim wasn't getting any easier, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't see improvements. Every drill felt like a test of patience—his patience with me, and mine with myself. I couldn't help but feel like I was being judged, even though I knew that wasn't his intention. There was something about the way he held himself that made me feel small. His tone, his stance—everything about him screamed confidence. And here I was, doubting myself every step of the way.

Tim didn't give up, though. He kept pushing me, even when I faltered. His standards were high—almost unreachable at times—but there was something in the way he said, "Again. Do it again." that made me want to prove I could do it. Even if I didn't believe it.

After another tough round of drills, Tim and I headed out to grab coffee—an unofficial debrief that always turned into more than just a caffeine run.

As we entered the café, I noticed Celina sitting by the window, a familiar smile on her face. Her presence always made everything feel a little less heavy.

"Finally," she said with a playful eye-roll. "You two actually make it out of the gym?"

I let out a small laugh, glad to see her. She was my closest friend in the industry. I leaned back in the chair, trying to forget about the tension from the drills.

Tim sat next to me, his usual serious expression softening when he glanced at Celina.

"Barely," I said. "Tim's trying to break me."

Celina raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh, please, Tim. You're probably the one torturing her."

"Training her," Tim corrected, though I could hear a hint of amusement in his voice.

I could tell they both liked each other's company. Celina was warm and easy to talk to, while Tim was... well, Tim. Intense, but with a subtle softness that only came out in moments like this. I felt strangely comforted by their presence, but that gnawing doubt lingered in the back of my mind.

What if I wasn't cut out for this? What if I let them down, or worse, let myself down?

Celina caught my gaze and grinned. "You look like you've seen better days. What's up?"

I shifted in my seat, avoiding her eyes for a moment. Should I tell her? I wasn't sure. Part of me wanted to open up, but another part was terrified of being seen as weak.

Tim, sensing my hesitation, took a sip of his coffee, his eyes on me. "She's just been overthinking things. You know how she gets."

Celina shot me a knowing look. "Don't we all? But hey, if you ever need a break from Tim's intense training, I'm your girl."

I smiled back, relieved by her easygoing attitude. "Thanks, I might take you up on that," I said, grateful that Celina always knew how to make me feel better without even trying. "How about you? How's everything going on your end?"

She laughed lightly, shrugging. "Same old. Just surviving the chaos." Her expression softened, and she added, "But hey, we should totally hang out soon, away from all this. No drills. No cameras. Just a girls' night."

I nodded, feeling the tension in my chest ease a little. "That sounds perfect."

Later that evening, after a long day of training, I was lounging on my couch when my phone buzzed again. The group chat was lighting up, and I could already see the familiar names filling my screen.

Tim: "Alright, Celina's birthday is this weekend. We need to plan something."

Aaron: "Surprise dinner? Maybe something lowkey."

Celina: "I swear if you guys throw me a huge party, I'll skip it."

Grey: "Oh please. Celina's birthday is an excuse for a feast. Count me in."

Angela: "Same. Just tell me where and when."

Sava/Juicy: "I vote for music and dancing. But I'm easy."

Celina: "I told you guys, I don't want any of that 'big celebration' stuff."

Tim: "Don't worry. We'll keep it simple. But you're getting a celebration whether you like it or not."

Aaron: "We could just do it at your place, Celina. Something casual."

Celina: "Fine. Fine. My place. But no surprises. I mean it."

Grey: "You know we're still doing surprise stuff, right?"

Celina's exasperated reply popped up almost immediately.

Celina: "I hate you all."

I chuckled at the conversation. It felt good to be a part of something that wasn't about work, or expectations, or living up to some ideal. It was just friends making plans for a night of fun.

I quickly typed out my own response.

"Count me in for whatever. I'll bring something fun."

Angela: "I'll get some desserts."

Tamara: "I'm down for whatever too."

As I hit send, I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. These people—Tim, Celina, Aaron, all of them—were making this journey feel a little bit lighter, even if I still had my moments of doubt.

Later that night, after the group chat had decided everything, I found myself watching Aaron and Celina standing by the parking lot, talking. There was something different in the way they stood so close, in the way their words seemed to linger in the air. I couldn't hear much of what they were saying, but I could tell it was more than just casual chatter.

"I don't know why you're fighting this so hard," Aaron's voice was low, teasing, but there was something in his tone that made it clear he cared.

Celina rolled her eyes but didn't back away. "I'm not fighting anything," she said with a half-smile, though her eyes were softer than usual. "I just don't need a big production."

Aaron stepped closer, his voice dropping even lower. "You know we're all going to spoil you, right?"

Celina's smile was almost shy, like she wasn't entirely sure how to respond. "If you say so."

I watched them for a moment longer before I turned away, a soft smile pulling at the corners of my lips. The tension between them was palpable, but it wasn't my place to meddle. They were going to figure it out.