Beneath Her Ice

The night air was colder than expected as Eliza stepped onto the rooftop terrace. Below, the city glittered like it had something to prove.

She'd never liked events. Especially not when they were in her honor.

Tonight's summit was supposed to be a celebration — the official partnership between Arcadia Futures and Will's foundation, backed by the tech she helped design.

Her name was on the project. But it was his heartbeat.

And yet... he hadn't spoken to her since the presentation. Not really.

He'd thanked her. Shook her hand. Smiled that small, careful smile.

But she knew distance when she felt it.

Behind her, the glass doors slid open.

Footsteps. His.

She didn't turn.

"You disappeared after the panel," he said, voice quiet.

"I'm not good with parties."

Will moved beside her. Close, but not touching. "You're not good at a lot of things."

She looked at him sharply, then saw the soft curve of his mouth.

"Like small talk," he continued. "Like pretending you don't care when you obviously do."

She looked back at the skyline. "Why does that bother you?"

"Because I stopped pretending, Eliza. And you haven't."

The silence pressed between them. Not angry. Not cold. Just... honest.

She turned to face him fully. "You think I'm still hiding behind something."

"I think you're scared to want anything that can't be measured in metrics and code."

Her chest rose, then fell. "And what if I am?"

"Then I'll wait," he said softly. "But I won't chase someone who's still running."

Her voice almost cracked. "I'm not running. I'm... learning to stand still."

That made him smile, faint and real.

"Then say it," he murmured. "Say something real. Something that doesn't come with conditions."

Her throat worked. Her hands trembled slightly.

And then:

"I don't want to do this without you."

He stepped closer. "This—meaning the project?"

"No," she whispered. "This. All of it. The future. The chaos. The... terrifying possibility that I might lose control and not hate it."

Will reached for her hand, threading their fingers together.

"You already lost control, Eliza. The moment you started to care."

She exhaled, shaky and free. "And you?"

He brushed a knuckle down her cheek. "I lost it the second you called me a liability."

She laughed — surprised by the sound. Then sobered. "Do I get another chance?"

He didn't answer.

He kissed her.

Slow. Certain. No heat without purpose, no fire without feeling.

And when they pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers.

"No more fortresses," he whispered. "No more pretending."

She nodded. "No more ice."

Below them, the city kept breathing. But neither noticed.

Because up here, everything had finally begun to thaw.