Chapter 3: Debugging Hearts
1783 Words
Emily had always thought working at a tech giant would be about long hours, complex logic, and the occasional team dinner with lukewarm hot pot.
She hadn’t expected... this.
Ever since the chicken rice incident, life at ZhiGuang Tech had turned into a walking question mark. People didn’t whisper when she walked by—they stared, not even trying to hide it.
Jayden clicked his tongue at Caleb. “He called her into his room again. You saw that, right?”
Caleb, dramatically sipping bubble tea: “That’s the third time this week. You know how many times I’ve been summoned by the big boss? Once. And it was to fix a printer.”
Ryan chimed in, pushing up his glasses, “She’s been here, what, a week? And she’s already been invited to a closed-door lunch. That’s not onboarding. That’s… unprecedented.”
Noah looked up from his laptop. “You guys done gossiping or should I print flyers?”
Emily, seated a few desks away, tried to ignore it all. Her face stayed neutral. But inside, a war was brewing.
Because they were right.
Isaac Qiu was watching her.
Every time she glanced up, he seemed to be somewhere nearby—either passing behind her desk, leaning in the hallway, or standing in the cafeteria like a marble statue. His presence was subtle, but undeniably there.
And Emily didn’t know how to feel about it.
---
She didn’t expect lunch to be off-site.
She thought maybe cafeteria again. Or a corner meeting room with sandwich boxes.
Instead, Isaac had walked up to her desk without a word, gestured for her to follow, and ten minutes later, they were sitting in a quiet restaurant with soft lighting and elegant place settings.
Emily sat stiffly, trying not to breathe too loud.
The waiter placed down their food. Steaming rice, stir-fried greens, grilled fish with lemon. The soft clinking of cutlery and low instrumental music were the only sounds.
She took a bite of rice.
Swallowed.
Stared at her glass of water.
It was too quiet. Too weird.
It never crossed her mind to have lunch with her big boss.
“Boss…” she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you bring me here?”
He set down his chopsticks.
“I want to pay my debt.”
Emily blinked. “Debt?”
“I never meant to make you treat me,” she said softly. “That rice… it wasn’t—”
“Well, I don’t want to owe you anything,” he cut in. “I don’t need your charity.”
The words hit like a slap.
Clean. Precise. Icy.
Her chest tightened. She nodded slowly, voice almost inaudible. “Yeah.”
She muttered the word like she was swallowing glass.
The rest of the meal passed in silence.
***
On the way back to the office, Isaac walked ahead. Emily trailed behind, unsure whether she should apologize or pretend she didn’t exist.
It was then she noticed something.
A necklace.
It dangled from his neck, partially hidden by the collar of his black shirt. A thin chain, almost delicate. And on it—two rings intertwined like lockets.
Something about them tugged at her.
Without thinking, she reached out to look closer. But the moment her fingers neared the chain—
Isaac grabbed her wrist.
His grip was too tight. Her breath caught.
“Don’t touch it.”
His voice was low. Firm. Final.
She flinched.
He shoved her hand away—enough to make her stumble a step back.
She looked down. A red mark bloomed where his fingers had pressed too hard.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
They walked the rest of the way in heavy silence. Not a word between them. Not a glance.
***
Back at the office, she rushed to her desk and sat down, her hand wrapped around her wrist, hiding it under her sleeve.
Isaac disappeared into his office without a word.
A few minutes later, Ryan Lin (currently borrowing Jayden's desk) glanced at her from across the aisle.
“Where did you go?” he asked.
“Nowhere,” she said flatly.
She grabbed a file and a CD and walked toward Noah's room, which was directly next to Isaac’s.
She knocked, stepped inside, and placed the items down.
Noah Zhang glanced up from his dual monitors. “Thanks.”
He hesitated, then smiled slightly. “What about dinner as payment?”
She forced a weak smile. “I’ll think about it. But not tonight. I’ve got some work to catch up on.”
As she stepped out, she nearly bumped straight into Isaac.
He stood just outside the room, about to enter.
“S-sorry,” she stuttered, eyes wide.
Before either could say a word—
“Emmi,” Ryan Lin appeared beside her and suddenly grabbed her wrist.
“OW!” she winced, instinctively pulling back. Her hand throbbed under his grip.
“What happened to your hand?” he asked, concern tightening his voice.
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, pulling her hand away again.
Ryan didn’t move. “Looks like a bruise.”
He moved to examine it again—right in front of Isaac, who stood silently, his expression unreadable.
Emily felt heat rush to her cheeks.
“Let’s go. You’re blocking Big Boss's way,” Ryan Lin muttered, ushering her back toward the workstations.
She nodded, flustered, not daring to look back.
As they walked away, she could still feel it:
Isaac’s eyes.
Focused. Heavy.
Not on her face.
On her wrist.
And for the rest of the day, not a word was said.
***
The office lights had dimmed long ago, leaving only a few pools of white from the emergency lights and her monitor screen. Half the development floor was shrouded in shadows, the humming of machines now sounding eerily louder in the absence of voices and footsteps.
Emily yawned and rubbed her eyes.
Her code editor blinked at her in silent judgment. She still hadn’t submitted the final documentation updates for the Atlas patch—and she only had until the day after tomorrow. She leaned her head into her right hand, too tired to keep upright.
Her eyes drifted to her wrist.
The once red mark had turned an ugly bluish-purple, the shape of fingers still faintly visible.
She sighed quietly. “I guess those rings… were their wedding rings.”
She let her hand fall, and groaned.
“Ugh... my wrist got ugly,” she muttered in frustration, gently massaging the sore skin. “Tch, serves me right.”
With an annoyed ruffle of her hair, she slumped forward and let her forehead rest on the cool table. Her voice was muffled but determined.
“It’s your fault, Emmi. Who told you to meddle in someone else’s business...”
A soft breath escaped her lips.
And soon... she was asleep.
***
She wasn’t sure how long she had been out.
But when her eyes fluttered open, the morning sun was leaking through the blinds, and a voice—not from a dream—startled her fully awake.
“Morning!”
Her eyes shot open.
“AHHH!” she gasped, nearly falling off the sofa.
Standing in front of her, holding a cup of coffee like it was perfectly normal to be your alarm clock, was Hao Mei.
“Y-you—what—how long have you been standing there?” she stammered.
He grinned. “Long enough to know you’re not a morning person.”
“Emily, did you hurt yourself?” Caleb Han’s voice floated from the side.
Emily blinked in confusion, still groggy.
Then she looked at her wrist.
It was bandaged. Neatly. Precisely. As if done by someone with experience.
Her brows furrowed. Did I… do that in my sleep?
And—wait—was she sleeping on the company lounge sofa?
With a blanket over her?
Did I sleepwalk? How… when—
“I got hurt last night. It’s not a big deal,” she mumbled quickly.
Caleb Han raised a brow but didn’t push. Jayden Wu, however, was much less subtle.
“Eh, Big Boss…” he said, turning toward the corridor. “Are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?”
Emily turned her head and nearly choked on air.
Isaac Qiu.
Still in yesterday’s black shirt and dark slacks, hair slightly tousled, walked past them holding a tablet.
“Had a couple things to settle,” he said simply, then disappeared into his office.
Emily blinked.
Her thoughts raced at full panic speed.
Wait—waitwaitwait—no way—did he… no. NO. No way.
But… the blanket. The bandage.
He didn’t even look surprised to see me there.
OH MY GOD.
COULD HE BE THE ONE WHO CARRIED ME?!
Her brain exploded in a silent scream.
Nope. I’m not going to survive this week. Someone bury me under the server room.
“Anyway, you should go home and get changed,” Caleb Han said kindly. “Do you want me to send you back?”
She shook her head quickly. “No, no—it’s okay. I’ll call a cab.”
“Alright. Just be careful.”
She nodded, gave them a small wave, and slipped out of the building.
***
Outside, the city air greeted her with blinding light and honking chaos. She stepped down the final steps, adjusting her bag strap, mind still reeling.
Her fingers grazed the bandaged wrist again.
Could this be his way of saying sorry...?
Her inner voice scoffed.
You don’t even know if it was him.
Yeah? Then who else would stay back, wrap your wrist, cover you with a blanket, and leave without saying a word? Santa Claus?
“Forget it,” she muttered aloud.
A loud honk snapped her out of her mental debate.
Honk! Honk!
A sleek white car rolled up beside the pavement. The passenger window lowered.
Isaac Qiu.
Of course.
Sunglasses. Sharp jawline. Silent intensity.
Why did you forget what his car looked like, Emmi?!
“Get in,” he said.
She blinked. “It’s okay. I’m going to take a cab or the bus—”
“Get. In.”
His tone left no room for negotiation.
He unlocked the door.
Emily exhaled in defeat.
“…Fine.”
She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.
As the door shut and the engine hummed, she whispered under her breath:
“…I guess this is how you say sorry.”
But Isaac said nothing.
Only the soft hum of traffic accompanied them—along with the unspoken truth that something, somewhere, had quietly shifted.
- Writer
