Sunday evening. Tahimik ang apartment ni Isabelle, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows across the room.
She sat on the couch, staring at nothing in particular, Marco's words from last night still echoing in her mind.
"Because of you."
Her chest tightened.
A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts.
"Isabelle," Marco's voice called softly.
She hesitated for a second… then opened the door.
There he was—casual, slightly messy hair, but his eyes were serious.
"Hi," he said quietly.
"Hi," she replied, stepping aside to let him in.
They stood there for a moment, unsure where to start.
"So…" Marco began, rubbing the back of his neck. "About last night—"
"I've been thinking about it too," Isabelle cut in.
He looked at her, waiting.
She took a deep breath. "You're not the only one who's scared."
Marco frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
Isabelle looked down, her fingers fidgeting. "I've never really been… good at relationships. Not because I can't… but because I don't let myself."
"Why?" he asked softly.
"Because I've seen how they end," she admitted. "Fights, heartbreak, people changing… leaving. It's easier to just focus on work, on things I can control."
Marco stepped closer, his voice gentle. "So you built walls."
She nodded. "High ones."
"And now?"
She looked up at him, her eyes vulnerable. "Now… you're standing right in front of them."
His breath hitched slightly.
"Marco… this wasn't supposed to happen," she continued. "Fake dating lang dapat. No feelings. No complications. But now… everything's different."
"Yeah," he murmured. "It is."
Silence filled the room, thick with unspoken emotions.
"Does that scare you?" he asked.
She gave a small, honest smile. "Terrifies me."
"Good," he said softly.
She blinked. "Good?"
"Because it scares me too," he admitted. "And somehow… that makes it feel real."
Her heart pounded.
He stepped even closer now, close enough that she could feel his warmth, his presence overwhelming in the best way.
"Isabelle…" he whispered.
"Hmm?"
"I don't want this to be fake anymore."
Her breath caught.
"Then what do you want?" she asked, barely audible.
He lifted his hand, hesitating for a moment before gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"I want to try," he said. "For real this time. With you."
Her walls trembled.
"But only if you're willing," he added softly.
Isabelle stared at him, her heart and mind at war. Every instinct told her to step back, to protect herself…
But for the first time, she didn't want to run.
"Marco…" she whispered.
He waited.
Slowly, she reached for his hand, her fingers intertwining with his.
"I don't know how this ends," she admitted. "I don't know if I'm ready… or if I'll mess things up."
"That makes two of us," he said with a small smile.
She let out a soft laugh, nerves and emotions mixing together.
"But…" she continued, looking into his eyes, "I want to try too."
Something shifted between them.
Not fake. Not pretend.
Real.
Marco smiled, relief and something deeper flickering across his face.
"Then we take it one step at a time," he said softly.
"One step at a time," she echoed.
And as they stood there, hands intertwined, hearts open despite the fear—
The walls between them didn't just crack.
They started to fall.