Tuesday evening.
Isabelle was just leaving the office when she saw a familiar black car parked outside her building.
Her stomach sank.
Marco.
She debated ignoring him. But the instinct to know—what he wanted, what he was thinking—won.
She sighed and stepped out.
Marco was leaning against the car, arms crossed, eyes fixed on her as if waiting for permission to speak.
"Hi," he said softly when she approached.
"Hi," Isabelle replied cautiously, keeping her distance.
"I… I wanted to see you," he continued, his voice low, almost hesitant. "Can we talk?"
Isabelle crossed her arms. "About?"
"About everything," he admitted. "I messed up. I know that."
She let out a bitter laugh. "Messed up? Marco, you didn't just mess up… you pushed me away, and now you're sitting here acting like it's okay?"
"It's not okay," he said quickly. "I know I hurt you. And I hate that I did. Isabelle… I want to fix this. Fix us."
Her eyes softened for a moment—but she quickly pulled back.
"And how do you plan to do that?" she asked skeptically.
Marco stepped a little closer, lowering his gaze. "By being honest. No walls. No excuses. I was scared. I was afraid of losing myself again… but I was also afraid of losing you. And… I can't let that happen."
Isabelle's chest tightened. She wanted to believe him… but the sting of distance, of rumors, of Clara… still lingered.
"I want to try again," he said, taking a careful step closer. "I don't care what people say, or what happens… I just want you. And I'll prove it to you. Every single day if I have to."
Her lips trembled. "And what if I don't trust you?"
"Then I earn it back," he said simply. "No tricks, no games. Just me… showing you that this—us—is real."
Isabelle studied him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, the slight vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.
"I… I need time," she whispered. "I can't just… jump back in."
"I understand," he said, nodding slowly. "Take all the time you need. I'll wait."
She felt tears prick at her eyes, but this time, they weren't only from pain—they were also from hope.
Marco reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'll wait for as long as it takes. But Isabelle… please don't shut me out completely."
She took a deep breath, nodding slightly. "Okay… not completely."
A small smile tugged at Marco's lips. "That's all I need for now."
They stood there for a moment, the evening breeze swirling around them, the tension between them softening ever so slightly.
The fight wasn't over. The rumors weren't gone. Clara's interference wasn't finished.
But for the first time in days, Isabelle felt a flicker of something she hadn't felt in a long time—
Hope.
And maybe… just maybe… a second chance.