His Cold Heart, My Fiery Soul

The office had fallen into a heavy silence that felt almost unnatural, the kind of silence that made even the air feel like it was waiting for something to happen. Delphine kept her eyes on the glowing screen in front of her, fingers moving quickly over the keyboard, but her focus was slipping with every passing minute. The files around her looked endless, the pressure heavier than usual, yet she refused to stop because stopping meant falling behind, and falling behind meant failure.

“You’re still here.”

Wilson’s voice broke through the silence without warning, and Delphine’s fingers paused instantly over the keyboard. She didn’t look up immediately, forcing herself to steady her breathing before responding. “I didn’t realize it was this late,” she said, trying to keep her tone normal even though his presence alone was already affecting her focus.

His footsteps came closer, slow and deliberate, until she could feel him standing near her desk. “You always say that,” he replied quietly, his eyes moving over the scattered documents in front of her. “As if time is something you can ignore just because you want to finish work.”

Delphine finally looked up, meeting his gaze with controlled calm. “And you always act like I should stop,” she replied. “But this is my responsibility. I don’t leave things unfinished.”

Wilson studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable but sharper than usual. “That’s not responsibility,” he said quietly. “That’s self-pressure.”

She frowned slightly, refusing to be shaken. “You don’t know what I have to handle outside this office,” she said. “So don’t reduce it to something simple.”

His gaze didn’t move away from her. “I’m not reducing it,” he replied. “I’m observing it.”

The way he said it made her chest tighten slightly, though she refused to show it. “Then stop observing me like I’m one of your case files,” she said quietly.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavier than before. Wilson didn’t respond immediately, and that alone made the space between them feel more intense. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, less professional. “You think I’m watching you because of work?”

Delphine hesitated. “Aren’t you?”

Wilson stepped slightly closer, and the distance between them suddenly felt too small for comfort. “No,” he said simply. “Not tonight.”

That answer unsettled her more than she expected. She leaned back slightly in her chair, trying to regain control of her emotions. “Then why are you here?” she asked quietly. “It’s late. You don’t usually stay this long.”

His eyes stayed on her. “Because you don’t know when to stop,” he said.

“That’s not an answer,” she replied immediately.

“It is,” he said calmly. “You just don’t like it.”

Delphine turned back to her screen, forcing herself to refocus, but his presence behind her made it difficult. “I can handle myself,” she said firmly.

Wilson’s voice lowered slightly. “That’s what worries me.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy and unexpected. Delphine slowly looked back at him. “Why would that worry you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze stayed fixed on her as if he was deciding how much truth to reveal.

“Because people who always say that,” he said quietly, “are usually the ones who never see the danger coming.”

Before she could respond, her phone vibrated sharply on the desk, cutting through the silence like a warning. Her heart tightened immediately as she picked it up.

The message was short, anonymous, and cold.

“You are not supposed to be with him right now.”

Delphine’s breath stopped as she read it again, slower this time. Her grip on the phone tightened, and when she finally lifted her eyes, Wilson was already watching her face closely.

“Who sent that?” she asked quietly.

Wilson didn’t answer immediately. His expression had changed slightly, not fear, not confusion, but something deeper and more controlled. “Show me,” he said calmly.

She hesitated for a second before turning the screen toward him.

He read the message once, then again, and the silence that followed felt heavier than anything before. His jaw tightened slightly, barely noticeable, but enough for Delphine to feel that something had shifted in him.

“Delete it,” he said finally.

Delphine frowned immediately. “Why would I delete it? Someone is threatening me.”

Wilson looked at her directly now, his voice lower and sharper. “Because whoever sent that message isn’t guessing anymore,” he said. “They know where you are.”

Delphine’s throat tightened. “Then why are you still here?” she asked.

Wilson held her gaze for a long moment, and when he spoke again, his voice carried something heavier than before.

“Because I already knew this was coming tonight.”

The air in the office seemed to change at that moment, as if something unseen had shifted around them. Delphine stared at him, trying to understand what he meant, but before she could speak again, the lights in the office flickered once, then twice, then held still.

And in that sudden silence, Wilson’s expression changed slightly as his eyes moved past her, toward the glass wall behind her desk.

“Don’t turn around,” he said quietly.

Delphine froze.

But it was already too late.

Because behind the glass, something had moved.

Delphine did not move immediately, even though every instinct in her body told her something was wrong. Wilson’s voice had dropped so low it barely carried through the room, yet the weight in it was enough to freeze her in place. She could feel her pulse rising as she slowly asked, “What do you mean don’t turn around?”

Wilson didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed beyond her, toward the glass wall behind her desk, his expression sharpening in a way she had never seen before. “Stay exactly where you are,” he said quietly, controlled but firm, as if one wrong movement could trigger something irreversible.

Delphine swallowed hard, forcing her voice to remain steady even though her hands had already begun to tremble slightly. “Wilson,” she whispered, “you’re starting to scare me. What is behind me?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment he didn’t speak, as if weighing whether telling her anything would make it worse. “I said don’t turn around,” he repeated, this time slower, heavier, almost protective in tone, though it carried a warning she could not ignore.

But Delphine was no longer just afraid, she was alert, every nerve in her body screaming that she was not alone. “I need to know what’s happening,” she said, her voice breaking slightly despite her attempt to stay composed. “I can’t just sit here blind.”

Wilson finally moved, stepping slightly closer behind her chair, his voice lowering even further. “Someone is outside the glass,” he said. “And they are not supposed to be able to reach this floor.”

Delphine’s breath caught sharply at those words, her fingers gripping the edge of her desk without realizing it. “Security?” she asked quickly, though her voice lacked confidence now.

Wilson didn’t respond immediately, and that silence was enough to make her stomach tighten. “Not security,” he said finally, and his tone carried something colder now. “If it was security, I wouldn’t be this calm.”

Her heart pounded harder as she slowly forced herself to whisper, “Then who is it?”

Wilson leaned slightly closer, his voice now almost only for her. “Someone who already knows your name,” he said. “And came here because of it.”

Delphine felt her throat tighten painfully. “Because of me?” she asked, barely able to believe it. “That doesn’t make sense. I don’t even know anyone like that.”

Wilson’s gaze remained locked ahead, his expression unreadable but tense. “That’s what makes it dangerous,” he replied. “Because they know you, even if you don’t know them yet.”

A silence fell again, heavier than before, as Delphine struggled to process what he was saying. Her mind raced through every possible explanation, but none of them made sense, and that only made her fear deepen. “Then what do we do?” she asked quietly.

Wilson didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shifted slightly, positioning himself closer behind her as if instinctively shielding her without touching her. “We don’t panic,” he said. “And we don’t give them what they want.”

Delphine tried to steady her breathing, but it was difficult when she could still feel the tension radiating from him. “And what do they want?” she asked.

Wilson hesitated for the first time, just briefly, before replying. “To confirm you are here,” he said. “And that you are not alone.”

The words made her stomach drop. “That means they are watching us right now,” she whispered.

Wilson didn’t deny it.

Instead, he said something that made her blood run cold.

“They’ve been watching longer than tonight.”

Delphine’s fingers went cold as silence wrapped around them again, thick and suffocating. She wanted to turn, to look, to confirm what was outside the glass, but something in Wilson’s presence kept her frozen in place, as if any movement would break something she could never repair.

Then it happened.

A faint knock came from the glass wall behind her desk, soft but deliberate, like someone acknowledging that they knew she was there.

Delphine’s breath stopped completely.

Wilson’s expression changed instantly, not fear, not shock, but something far more controlled and dangerous.

And then a voice came from the other side of the glass, calm, familiar, and completely unexpected.

“Wilson,” it said softly. “I know she’s with you.”

Delphine felt her entire body go cold at once.

Because Wilson didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

But for the first time since she had met him, his composure cracked in the smallest possible way, and she saw it clearly in his eyes.

Recognition.

And that was worse than fear.