Chapter 12
1389 Words
Work felt… different now.
Emma noticed it almost immediately Monday morning.
Not because anything around her had changed.
The office was still the same.
The pace still demanding.
The pressure still constant.
But him—
He had adjusted.
Slightly.
Enough for her to notice.
Enough to make everyone else notice too.
He was still strict.
Still precise.
Still impossible to read most of the time.
But there was less sharpness in the way he addressed her now.
Less tension.
The corrections came calmer.
The silences less suffocating.
And somehow—
That made things worse.
Because Emma had grown used to defending herself around him.
Preparing herself.
But now she kept catching moments that unsettled her more than irritation ever had.
A brief pause before he answered her.
The way his gaze lingered for half a second longer than necessary.
The fact that he no longer dismissed her presence the second she entered a room.
Small things.
Tiny things.
But they stayed with her anyway.
By Friday afternoon, even Mia from accounting had noticed.
“You’re smiling more,” Mia said suspiciously from across the break room.
Emma blinked. “I am not.”
“You are.”
“I’m really not.”
Mia narrowed her eyes dramatically.
“…did the ice king finally develop emotions?”
Emma nearly choked on her coffee.
“No.”
Too quickly.
Mia gasped loudly.
“Oh my God.”
Emma immediately regretted responding at all.
“There’s nothing going on.”
“I didn’t even say there was.”
Emma closed her eyes briefly.
Wonderful.
That weekend arrived quietly.
Emma expected to spend it alone.
Maybe catch up on laundry.
Read.
Sleep for once.
Instead—
Saturday morning brought an unexpected knock at her apartment door.
Emma opened it to find Lia standing there holding a small overnight bag almost as big as she was.
Behind her stood him.
Perfectly composed as always.
“Emma!” Lia threw herself forward instantly.
“Can I stay here this weekend?”
Emma blinked rapidly.
“…what?”
“She asked repeatedly,” he explained calmly.
Repeatedly apparently meant relentlessly.
Lia clasped her hands together dramatically.
“Please?”
Emma looked between them carefully.
“You want to stay… here?”
“Yes!”
“With me?”
“Yes!”
“For the weekend?”
“Yes!”
Emma laughed softly despite herself.
Then her gaze lifted toward him again.
“You’re okay with this?”
A pause.
A very slight hesitation.
Then—
“She wants to be here.”
Simple.
Direct.
But Emma noticed the detail anyway.
He hadn’t said I want her here.
Only that Lia did.
Still—
For a man like him, this was already enormous.
Emma stepped aside slowly.
“Well… okay.”
Lia cheered loudly before rushing inside like she already lived there.
Emma stared after her in amusement.
Then lowered her voice slightly.
“You really trust me that much?”
His expression didn’t change.
But something flickered briefly behind his eyes.
“I trust my daughter.”
Practical again.
Always practical.
But before leaving, his gaze shifted once toward the apartment building across the street.
Subtle.
Almost unnoticeable.
Emma wouldn’t have caught it if she hadn’t been watching carefully.
Two men stood near a black vehicle outside.
One pretending to check his phone.
The other scanning the street casually.
Guards.
Emma looked back at him slowly.
“You stationed security here?”
“For precaution.”
“That feels excessive.”
“No,” he answered quietly.
“It feels necessary.”
Something about the way he said it made her stop questioning him.
Because suddenly—
It didn’t sound paranoid.
It sounded terrified.
The weekend passed easier than Emma expected.
Lia filled every quiet space effortlessly.
Cartoons in the morning.
Pancakes slightly burned because Lia insisted on helping.
A walk to the nearby park.
Movies with too much popcorn.
At one point, Lia had fallen asleep against Emma’s shoulder halfway through an animated film.
Emma sat there for a long time afterward without moving.
Just looking down at the little girl curled against her.
Safe.
Comfortable.
Trusted.
It did something strange to her chest.
Something warm.
Something dangerous.
Because this was starting to feel real.
Too real.
And Emma wasn’t sure when that happened.
Sunday evening arrived too quickly.
Rain clouds stretched across the city again as Emma helped Lia gather her things.
“I don’t wanna leave,” Lia complained dramatically.
“You say that every time you leave somewhere.”
“Because leaving is sad.”
Emma smiled softly, fixing the little girl’s jacket.
“You’ll see me tomorrow.”
“
That’s too long.”
A car pulled up outside moments later.
Right on time.
Of course.
Emma walked Lia downstairs herself.
The ride back to the house was quieter than usual.
Lia seemed sleepy.
Curled against Emma’s side in the backseat.
But the second they entered the house—
Something felt wrong.
Emma noticed it instantly.
The silence.
Too quiet.
No movement.
No staff.
No sound from the study downstairs.
Even Lia lifted her head slightly.
“Daddy?”
No answer.
Emma frowned faintly.
Then she saw it.
Light beneath the partially open study door.
She moved closer slowly.
And stopped.
He sat behind the desk motionless.
One arm resting heavily against the chair.
Head bowed slightly.
A large framed photograph stood on the desk opposite him.
And beneath his left hand—
Blood dripped slowly onto the floor.
Emma’s breath caught.
Broken glass pieces scattered near the overturned whiskey tumbler beside him.
For a moment—
He didn’t even seem aware they were there.
Lia stepped closer behind her.
“Daddy…?”
His head lifted slightly at the sound of her voice.
And Emma froze.
Because she had never seen him look like that before.
Helpless.
Not angry.
Not cold.
Not controlled.
Just broken.
Lia’s small hand immediately tightened around Emma’s sleeve.
“Emma…”
Fear.
Real fear.
Emma reacted instantly.
She crouched beside her carefully.
“Hey, hey—it’s okay.”
But Lia’s eyes stayed fixed on her father.
“He’s bleeding…”
“I know.”
Emma gently turned her away from the study door.
“Why don’t you go upstairs for me?”
“No—”
“Lia.”
Soft.
Steady.
Emma cupped her face gently.
“He’s okay. I promise.”
It took several minutes.
Several reassurances.
But eventually Lia nodded weakly and disappeared upstairs.
Emma waited until she heard the bedroom door close before turning back toward the study.
The room felt heavy.
Still.
He hadn’t moved much.
Blood continued slipping slowly from cuts across his palm.
Emma approached carefully.
“You’re hurt.”
“I noticed.”
His voice sounded rougher than usual.
Exhausted.
Emma quietly gathered the nearby first aid kit from the cabinet.
When she returned, he still hadn’t looked at her directly.
Only at the photograph.
Emma sat carefully beside him.
“You should let me clean this.”
A long silence followed.
Then finally—
He held out his hand.
Emma swallowed slightly.
The cuts weren’t deep.
But there were several small shards still embedded across his palm.
“You broke the glass.”
“Yes.”
Another silence.
Emma worked carefully removing each piece.
He barely reacted.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t pull away.
Almost like he welcomed the pain.
Emma wrapped the bandage slowly once she finished.
“There.”
Quiet again.
Then finally—
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Emma looked up.
For the first time since she’d entered the room—
He looked tired.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Like something inside him had finally collapsed under its own weight.
Emma hesitated before speaking.
Her eyes shifted toward the large framed photograph on the desk.
A woman smiled brightly from the picture.
Beautiful.
Warm.
Alive.
Emma looked back at him carefully.
“If I may ask…”
A pause.
“Why do you look at that picture like it’s the only thing keeping you alive?”
For a second—
She expected silence.
Expected him to shut down again.
But instead—
His eyes lowered slowly toward the frame.
And when he finally spoke—
His voice was quieter than she had ever heard it before.
“…it all started a few years ago.”
- Writer
