Chapter 13- The Complexity of Unspoken Feelings.

A Storm Beneath the Surface

For a moment, the world shrank into the space between them.

Nora's heart pounded so violently she feared it might echo through the hallway. A swirl of shock, disbelief, and overwhelming happiness surged through her veins—she was in the arms of Francis Walter.

Her idol.

Her breath hitched as she took in his features up close. He was even more breathtaking in person. The sharp lines of his face softened under the warm hallway light, his eyes an intense shade of hazel that seemed to hold unspoken secrets. His gaze was unwavering, fixated entirely on her.

Francis, on the other hand, was mesmerized.

He had seen countless beautiful faces—women who spent hours perfecting themselves, who knew how to captivate a room the moment they stepped in. But this girl… she was different.

She wasn't the kind of beauty that demanded attention. Instead, it was the kind that crept up on you, subtle and unassuming, until one day you found yourself utterly entranced. Her almond-shaped eyes, framed by thick lashes, held a quiet fire. Her lips—soft, rosy, and slightly parted in surprise—seemed to tremble, betraying her emotions. Her skin, flushed pink from the moment, made her look ethereal.

And that hair—long, dark, cascading effortlessly down her back—like ink poured onto silk.

Francis had encountered countless women, but none had ever lingered in his thoughts. None had pulled at him the way she did.

And the strangest part?

He had noticed her before.

The first time was when she had shyly handed him a gift—a rolled-up painting. He had taken it without much thought, his mind preoccupied. But there had been something about her presence, something quiet yet persistent, that had lodged itself in his subconscious.

He hadn't thought much of it then.

But now…

Fate had brought them together again.

Francis wasn't one to believe in coincidences.

That was why he hadn't been angry when he caught her sneaking glances at him earlier.

He had simply waited.

And here she was.

---

A Moment That Shouldn't Exist

After what felt like an eternity frozen in time, Francis finally spoke, his voice low and smooth.

"Are you okay?"

The warmth in his tone sent another wave of heat to Nora's cheeks.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out at first.

Then—

"Y-Yes, I'm okay," she stammered, stepping back quickly and bowing her head. "Thank you for saving me."

Francis shook his head, a small, amused smile playing at his lips. "No, it was my fault for startling you."

"No, it's my fault for… um… peeking," she admitted shyly, rubbing her arm.

His gaze flickered with intrigue. "Peeking?"

She wanted to slap herself. Why did I say that out loud?!

She quickly cleared her throat and took another step back. "I-I should get going now."

But just as she turned, she became painfully aware of the murmurs around them. The hushed whispers, the curious stares—

Oh no.

Heat crawled up her neck. She ruffled her hair, pretending to fix it, hoping to hide her flustered face.

And then—

"Can I know your name?"

She froze.

Her mind short-circuited.

Had she imagined that?

Slowly, she turned back around, eyes wide.

Francis Walter was watching her with an expression that was both soft and unreadable.

"And…" He hesitated slightly, then, in a voice just above a whisper, added, "your number?"

A sharp intake of breath.

Nora blinked rapidly. Her body refused to move. Was she dreaming? Was this real?

Disbelief took over, and before she could stop herself, she lightly smacked her forehead.

"Nora, wake up. Stop daydreaming."

A deep chuckle made her freeze again.

She looked up—

Francis had tapped her arm, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"It's not a dream," he murmured, his voice laced with laughter.

Oh, God.

Her brain completely malfunctioned.

"I-I'm Nora Smith," she finally managed to say, her hands trembling as she took his unlocked phone and carefully typed in her number.

Her heart raced. Was this really happening?

A sudden thought struck her.

C-Can I take a picture with him?!

The words left her mouth before she could stop them.

Francis chuckled again, clearly entertained by her nervousness. "Of course."

Fumbling with her phone, she took a few selfies, but none seemed right. She wanted a proper photo, a moment she could cherish.

Determined, she turned toward the nearest person.

"Excuse me, could you take a picture of us?" she asked politely, her voice still shaky.

And then—

Her entire body stiffened.

The air turned thick.

Because standing before her wasn't some random passerby.

It was Dave.

And he was staring at her like he was ready to tear the world apart.

---

The Storm in His Eyes

Dave's face was unreadable—yet somehow more expressive than she had ever seen before.

His usually indifferent gaze was now a sharp blade, cutting through the space between them.

His jaw was clenched so tightly she could see the muscles flex beneath his skin. His entire frame was rigid, as if he was forcing himself to stay still.

But his eyes.

His eyes held something dark. Something raw.

Something terrifyingly possessive.

Nora's breath caught in her throat.

She had seen Dave annoyed before. She had seen him irritated, cold, distant.

But she had never seen him furious.

Yet here he was, standing before her, his expression twisted with jealousy, anger—something else.

His gaze flickered between her and Francis, and for a split second, she swore she saw something dangerous flash through his eyes.

A challenge.

A warning.

A storm brewing beneath an otherwise controlled surface.

Francis, standing beside her, took note of the tension immediately. His own expression turned unreadable, his posture shifting ever so slightly—as if preparing for something.

The two men locked eyes.

The air was thick. Unbearable.

And then—

Dave's lips curled into a slow, sinister smirk.

Nora felt a shiver crawl down her spine.

She knew this look.

This was Dave at his most dangerous.

And for the first time in her life—

She wasn't sure what he was going to do next.