Saturday.<br/><br/>It was Saturday, and it was quite possibly her favourite day of the week. Not only because Saturday meant she wasn’t neck deep in paperwork, graphic images of unspeakable crime scenes and endless jurats submitted by unfortunate witnesses, but because Saturdays always felt normal. Like the world wasn’t melting and humanity hadn’t wavered long ago.<br/><br/>Layla D’Aguiliar devoted most of her time to working, studying high profile criminals and attempting to piece together broken fragments of intricate puzzles. The job consumed her thoughts constantly, made her second guess the intentions of every stranger she crossed paths with and denied her the luxury of relaxation in the evening. Most nights she’d struggle to sleep, not because the images of blood stricken crime scenes had imprinted in her mind, but because being an insomniac and a detective were a toxic combination.<br/><br/>Every second Saturday she hosted breakfast for her brother and his partner. It was a chance for them to escape the woes of work, bathe in rays of sunshine and nourish their tired bodies with nutritious, delicious food. Her brother’s fiancée had been away for the past 6 weeks in France, displaying her works of abstract art in numerous galleries after receiving an incredible offer from another established artist.  She knew he was feeling the effects of living alone without his life partner, so they had made plans to have breakfast every weekend instead of every second, while she was away.<br/><br/>Delicate fingers pried open the french doored refrigerator to reveal an array of fresh ingredients, purchased from the local farmers market only a couple of hours prior. Eyeing the mass of coloured vegetables and leafy greens in the fridge, Layla scooped up a couple of avocados, lemons, baby spinach, broccolini, mushrooms and eggs to set them on the counter top next to a bowl of spice tossed chickpeas and roasted sweet potato. She typically preferred a sweet breakfast — french toast, pancakes or oatmeal with lashings of honey, berries and nuts — but with her brother’s fiancée away, she worried he wasn’t eating enough nutrient dense food. Layla always made extra for him to take home and have breakfast tomorrow, at least he would have two decent meals a week.<br/><br/>Eggs were placed into a pot of boiling water and mushrooms began to sizzle on a heated pan, while she began to slice the lemons and avocado.<br/><br/>For a moment, Layla stopped to admire the beams of sun filtering into her quaint, New York styled loft. Her favourite thing about the place was how much sunlight it captured and how, even on the coldest and darkest of days, natural light pooled into the rooms. Large windows lined the room, leaving little in terms of privacy. The town was extremely safe, the kind of town everyone knew each other’s names, children would ride their bicycles until dark and neighbours would bond over discussing their favourite local coffee shops.<br/><br/>The woman turned to tend to the food cooking on the stove as she removed the mushrooms and added the broccolini and spinach to soften the greens. It wouldn’t be long until her brother arrived, he was always on time with a bright smile.<br/><br/>While the greens heated on the stove, she turned to brew a pot of coffee before beginning to assemble two plates of breakfast with the mushrooms, avocado, sweet potato and a wedge of lemon, with an extra plate to compile the leftovers she would send home with her brother. Next to join the vegetables on the plate was the greens and hard boiled eggs, before a sprinkling of salt and chilli flakes followed.<br/><br/>A rhythmic tap on the door pricked at her ears, before frantic hands tugged at the strings of her apron, scooping it from around her neck and onto a hook beside the fridge. A light smile graced her pillowy lips, a rush of excitement skipping through her stomach as she anticipated opening the door to greet one of her favourite people.<br/><br/>Peering through the frosted glass that lined the front door, Layla noticed her brother was in company. Had his fiancée come home early? Surely he would have told her she’d be coming. On second glance, as she approached the door, it became apparent that the additional person was most certainly a man, standing in similar stature to her brother. Who could it be?<br/><br/>Her fingers quickly swept a strand of honey blonde hair behind her ear as her hands smoothed over the navy t-shirt she wore, glancing down at her appearance. Perhaps if she knew she was expecting additional guests, she would have worn something a little nicer, perhaps with a spritz of perfume.<br/><br/>Prying open the heavy wooden door, blue eyes immediately settled onto her brother.<br/><br/>“Thomas!” Layla beamed, ushering her brother in for a warm hug, giving him a loving squeeze as she did, “I didn’t know you were bringing company.” Her voice sounded more curious as her gaze flickered to settle on the man behind Thomas.<br/><br/>Their gaze met, immediately a pool of warmth entering her stomach. He was handsome, that was for sure. There was something oddly familiar about him, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. Did she know him? And how?<i>Hopefully not someone I have charged, </i>she mused to herself, eliciting a cheeky grin across her lips. Of course her brother wouldn’t be friends with someone of that nature.<br/><br/>Layla’s gaze swept over him once more, studying the man before she glanced back to Thomas for an introduction, if not an explanation.