HER NAME IN HIS SILENCE
879 Words
The weekend came, but rest didn’t.
Amelia sat on the floor of her apartment surrounded by notes, printouts, and half-eaten snacks. Her eyes burned from too many hours staring at screens. Yet she couldn't stop.
There was a traitor inside Blackstone.
And whoever it was, they were smart — one step ahead, silent, invisible.
At 11:49 p.m., her door buzzed.
She hesitated, then answered.
It was Dominic.
Dressed in a hoodie, black jeans, and holding a pizza box.
“You didn’t eat dinner,” he said softly.
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“You’re lying,” he replied, walking past her into the living room like he belonged there.
She stared at him for a second, then followed.
They sat together on the carpet. He opened the pizza, handed her a slice, and waited until she took a bite before speaking.
“You’re not alone in this, Amelia.”
“I know. I just... I need to think without noise.”
Dominic leaned back on his hands. “You’ve been carrying this whole company on your shoulders. Let me carry you for once.”
She looked at him slowly. “I don’t know how to lean on someone without feeling weak.”
“You don’t have to lean. Just let me stand beside you.”
They sat in silence for a while, the city lights flickering through the blinds.
Then he turned to her.
“Amelia... I meant what I said at the retreat. I want this. Us.”
She felt her chest tighten.
“I want it too,” she said quietly. “But we’re in the middle of something dangerous. If anything happens—”
“I’ll protect you,” he said instantly.
“I don’t need protection,” she replied. “I need someone who sees me. All of me. Even the ugly, ambitious, stubborn parts.”
“I already do,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “And I love them.”
The words landed softly but shook something deep inside her.
“You love me?”
He nodded once. “Yes. And I’m not taking it back.”
She didn’t speak.
Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him — slow, certain, and deep.
When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his.
“I’ve never been in something real before,” she whispered.
Dominic smiled. “Then we’ll make it real. Together.”
Monday morning, they walked into Blackstone separately. As always.
The public didn’t need to know what was private.
But the energy had changed.
Amelia was sharper, clearer, more focused.
Dominic looked calmer, more grounded.
They were still hunting the mole. Still running a company. Still dodging invisible bullets.
But now, they had each other.
At noon, Amelia got a new lead. IT reported a sudden transfer of sensitive files from an internal network to an unknown external device. The log traced back to an assistant named Drew — quiet, polite, barely noticeable.
She pulled his file. Nothing stood out.
Until she noticed one thing: Drew had worked at Slate & Wren for a summer internship three years ago.
She took it to Dominic.
“He’s our leak.”
Dominic read the report. “He’s been here less than six months.”
“Long enough to listen. To pass things along.”
“What do we do?”
Amelia stared at the photo.
“We don’t confront him. Not yet. We let him slip.”
Dominic tilted his head. “Slip?”
“We let him feel like he’s safe. Comfortable. And then, when he least expects it, we pull the ground from beneath him.”
Dominic’s lips curved. “You really are terrifying sometimes.”
“Is that a problem?” she asked, stepping closer.
“No,” he whispered. “It’s the sexiest thing about you.”
She smirked. “Careful. I’m still your Executive Creative Director.”
“Then direct me.”
She rolled her eyes but laughed anyway.
And just like that, they returned to war.
Together.
By Wednesday, Drew made his move.
He accessed a project vault Amelia had seeded with false blueprints. Then, he left the building early. Fifteen minutes later, the vault's fake files pinged an IP address connected to Slate & Wren.
They had him.
Dominic called for security. Amelia waited by the elevator.
When Drew stepped out, he froze.
Amelia folded her arms. “Going somewhere?”
He swallowed. “I was just—”
“Lying,” she said. “Don’t bother. It’s over.”
Security escorted him out quietly. There were no outbursts. No grand excuses.
Just silence.
That night, Dominic and Amelia sat in his office alone.
He poured two glasses of wine and handed her one.
“To the woman who saved my company,” he said.
“To the man who let me,” she replied.
Their glasses clinked.
“Do you think it’s over?” he asked.
“No. But I think we’re finally ahead,” she said. “And I think... I love you too.”
He looked at her, completely still.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he whispered.
She leaned forward and kissed him again — no longer with hesitation.
Because now, she wasn’t falling alone.
- Writer
