Secrets in the Heat

1

Martin Jean-Baptiste

The hum of his computer was the only sound in the room, steady and constant like his heartbeat. Martin Jean-Baptiste sat back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, staring at the lines of code in front of him, though his mind had long drifted away from the work.

The glow of the screen illuminated his sharp features—broad nose, thick brows, and a full beard that added to the air of intensity that surrounded him. His tall frame seemed almost cramped in the small, dim office, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare on the small space. He ran a hand over his beard, deep in thought. For as long as he could remember, he'd always been able to solve problems—break through any firewall, track down any elusive threat in the digital realm. But this... This was something different. Something was tugging at him from the inside, gnawing at his chest with an emptiness he couldn't place.

He stood up suddenly, the leather of his chair creaking under his weight, and walked over to the window. His office was on the tenth floor of a sleek building in downtown Fort Lauderdale. From here, he could see the sprawling streets below, people moving like ants in and out of restaurants and bars as the sun dipped low, casting the city in shades of pink and orange.

The city was alive, but he felt so distant from it.

Martin had come to the U.S. from Haiti when he was a teenager, a bright kid with a natural gift for understanding technology. His mother, a strong-willed woman with a heart of gold, had worked tirelessly to get him and his siblings out of Port-au-Prince after the earthquakes that had rocked their world. They had come here seeking safety, stability, and a better life. And in many ways, Martin had found it. He had a solid job in cybersecurity, made good money, and lived in a comfortable apartment not far from the beach. But something had been missing for a long time now, a sense of purpose that went beyond the zeros and ones that filled his screen.

He checked his phone again—still no messages. Not that he expected any.

The truth was, he had been alone for a while now. Not physically—there were people he worked with, family he checked in on, friends he hung out with from time to time. But alone in the way that mattered most. The kind of alone that crept in during the quiet hours of the night, long after the world had gone to sleep, leaving him to his own thoughts. He had tried dating, but nothing ever seemed to stick. Women liked him well enough—he was tall, broad-shouldered, confident in that easy, unspoken way. But Martin was guarded, careful about who he let in, maybe too careful. He'd always been a protector by nature, but when it came to protecting himself, he was almost too good at it.

He sighed and looked down at his hands, large and calloused from his time at the gym. Despite his job's sedentary nature, Martin made it a point to work out regularly—lifting weights helped him keep the edge off, kept him grounded. His body had grown strong and resilient, a wall against the stress of the world. But no amount of physical strength could shield him from the gnawing sense of incompleteness that he carried around like a ghost.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media. Pictures of smiling faces, couples at dinner, friends on vacation, everyone with someone. He frowned slightly, his thumb hesitating over a photo of a friend's engagement. It wasn't envy, exactly. More like a longing for something real, something more than the surface-level connections he'd become accustomed to. He'd been thinking about it more lately—maybe it was time to change something. Do something different. Put himself out there in a way that he hadn't before. But the idea of opening himself up to someone again felt like a risk, and Martin had never been one for emotional risk.

A buzz on his desk pulled him from his thoughts. A notification popped up on his screen—another potential breach. Work was never far away. He sat back down, fingers already flying over the keyboard, his mind switching gears as he dove into the problem with laser focus.