CHAPTER 12- The Breaking Point of Silent Emotions.

Unspoken Tensions

Back at the Department

Nora strolled into her department, greeted by the familiar hum of conversation and laughter. Her colleagues were gathered in small clusters, exchanging jokes and discussing the morning's event. She mustered a polite smile and returned their greetings, but her mind was elsewhere.

She needed a nap.

The art studio called to her—a quiet sanctuary where she could steal a few moments of rest before the afternoon workload began.

Just as she turned to leave, a shoulder bumped into hers.

"Good morning, Nora," a familiar voice drawled.

Nora sighed before even looking up.

Diana.

The smirk on her face was unmistakable. "I hope you didn't miss the program."

Nora scoffed. "Diana, why would I miss my idol's program?"

Diana chuckled. "Oh, I saw you enter—late as always."

Rolling her eyes, Nora crossed her arms. "At least he took my gift."

Diana's laughter erupted, sharp and condescending. "Honey, celebrities accept gifts all the time. He probably won't even check yours."

Nora's jaw clenched. "He will check mine. I'm not like the others."

Diana's smirk widened. "And who are you to Francis Walter? Just another fan. He doesn't even know you exist, and yet you think you're special? What makes you different?"

Nora met her gaze without flinching. "He's my idol and role model," she said firmly. "And I approached him differently—not like the rest of his fans. Including you."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Diana's face burned red with fury. "A random fan like you dares to talk back to me? Delusional girl!" she shouted.

But the room had fallen into hushed silence. Everyone was watching.

Diana faltered, realizing her outburst had made her the center of attention. Letting out an awkward laugh, she straightened her posture and stormed off, feigning nonchalance.

Nora muttered under her breath, "How dare she call me a random fan?"

---

A Name That Stopped Her in Her Tracks

As she continued walking, a pair of girls nearby giggled, whispering excitedly.

"Did you see the handsome guy standing beside Francis Walter?" one of them gushed.

"Yes! That was Dave Trump," the other replied with enthusiasm.

The name hit Nora like a shockwave.

She stopped mid-step.

Turning swiftly, she approached them. "Are you sure Dave was there?"

The girls, recognizing her, nodded eagerly.

"Yes!"

Nora's brows furrowed as she replayed the morning's events in her head. She had been so engrossed in Francis Walter's presence that she hadn't even registered Dave's.

I actually ignored him unintentionally, she realized.

A slow smirk curved her lips.

"I should've at least teased him a little before leaving," she murmured.

A sudden determination sparked within her.

Pivoting on her heel, she changed direction, heading back toward the auditorium.

The two girls exchanged curious glances.

"Is she really going to meet the Cold Dave Trump?" one whispered.

"I think so," the other replied, wide-eyed.

---

A Moment of Weakness

When Nora arrived at the scene, Dave was nowhere to be found.

Instead, she spotted Francis Walter making his way toward the stairway, his composed stride exuding effortless grace.

Her lips parted slightly as an idea formed.

She might not have found Dave, but that didn't mean she couldn't take a moment to admire her idol.

With light, careful steps, she followed Francis, stopping at the stairway landing. She crouched slightly, peeking over the railing as he answered a phone call.

Her heart fluttered.

"Ugh, he's so handsome," she whispered dreamily.

Her imagination ran wild.

In her mind, Francis turned to her, his piercing gaze softening.

"Hi, you look so beautiful, Nora."

The way he smiled—so dazzling, so warm—made her blush in her fantasy.

But reality was cruel.

She blinked, snapping back to the present.

Francis was gone.

She had been staring at empty space, lost in her own delusions.

"Ugh, stupid Nora," she muttered, lightly smacking her forehead.

With a sigh, she turned to leave.

Only to find someone standing directly behind her.

Her breath hitched.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she instinctively took a step back—

And lost her balance.

Panic surged through her as the floor tilted beneath her feet.

But before she could fall, a strong arm shot out, wrapping around her waist.

Time slowed.

She found herself pressed against a solid chest, her wide eyes locking onto an intense gaze.

Francis Walter.

Holding her.

Their faces were inches apart.

Nora's breath stilled, her cheeks blazing under the weight of his piercing stare.

His grip was firm yet careful, his touch steadying her effortlessly.

For a fleeting moment, the world melted away.

Her mind went blank.

Her heart pounded like a drum inside her chest.

But then—

Footsteps echoed in the stairwell.

A shadow loomed.

Nora turned her head—

And froze.

Dave Trump stood at the entrance, his assistant and Francis Walter's manager beside him.

The air in the stairwell thickened instantly.

Dave's entire body went rigid.

His sharp blue eyes darkened, his jaw tightening.

A muscle ticked in his cheek as his gaze flickered between her and Francis.

Nora barely had time to process the weight of his expression—one that simmered with something raw and unreadable.

Jealousy.

Anger.

Possession.

For the first time, she saw a crack in Dave's cold exterior.

A storm brewed in his eyes, threatening to break free.

And in that moment, she knew—

This wasn't going to end here.