Thursday evening.
Isabelle sat at the park bench, twirling her coffee cup nervously.
She knew she had to test him—just a little. To see if Marco was really serious.
And she knew Clara would make things… complicated.
Sure enough, as if on cue, Clara appeared across the park, waving at Marco.
"Marco! Over here!" she called.
Isabelle stiffened.
Marco's head turned slightly, but then he noticed Isabelle sitting there. His eyes softened immediately.
"Excuse me," he said to Clara, walking over to Isabelle instead.
Clara smirked faintly, following at a distance.
"Hi," Marco said softly, sitting beside Isabelle.
She looked at him, holding back a sigh. "Hi."
"I… I saw Clara," he said, frowning slightly.
"I know," Isabelle replied calmly. "I wanted to see how you'd react."
Marco blinked. "Test me?"
"Yes," she admitted. "I need to know… are you really choosing me? Not just saying it, but showing it?"
Marco's jaw tightened. "Isabelle… I already chose you. And I'll keep choosing you."
"Even when she's… around?"
"Even then," he said firmly.
Clara, noticing Marco ignoring her, stepped closer. "Marco, can we talk? Just us?"
Isabelle's hands tightened in her lap.
"Marco," she said quietly but sharply. "I'm here. Don't even think about it."
Marco looked at her, and then at Clara. His expression was clear.
"I'm sorry, Clara," he said decisively. "But Isabelle is the one I want. You need to respect that."
Clara's smirk faltered for a second. "Oh… I see."
He turned back to Isabelle. "I told you, I choose you. No more games."
Isabelle felt her chest tighten, relief washing over her.
"You mean it?" she asked softly, searching his eyes.
"Every word," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
She smiled, her heart finally at ease.
"Good," she whispered. "Because I'm done testing you."
He grinned slightly, pulling her hand into his. "And I'm done letting anyone—especially her—interfere between us."
The tension that had been lingering for days finally began to fade.
For the first time since Clara had started her games, Isabelle felt safe—emotionally, fully.
Marco pulled her into a hug, holding her tight. "We're in this together," he murmured.
"Yes," Isabelle whispered back. "Together."
Clara, realizing she couldn't break them, slowly walked away, her expression unreadable but her influence diminishing.
And in that moment, Isabelle knew: whatever challenges came next, whatever rumors, fears, or obstacles—
They would face them as one.
Because this time, Marco wasn't running.
And Isabelle wasn't letting go.