Monday morning. Isabelle sat in a café with her best friend, Mia, absentmindedly stirring her coffee.
"Okay, spill," Mia said, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. "What's going on with you and Marco?"
Isabelle blinked. "What do you mean?"
Mia scoffed. "Don't 'what do you mean' me. I saw you two at the gathering. The way he looks at you? The way you don't push him away? Girl… something's happening."
Isabelle sighed, leaning back in her chair. "It's just fake dating, Mia. We agreed on that. Nothing more."
"Uh-huh," Mia said, unconvinced. "And yet, you're smiling at your coffee like it just confessed its love to you."
Isabelle froze. "I am not!"
Mia raised an eyebrow. "You are. And don't even try to deny it. You're catching feelings."
The words hit harder than Isabelle expected.
"I'm not," she said more quietly this time. "I can't. Marco's not… that kind of guy."
"What kind?" Mia pressed.
"The kind who stays," Isabelle admitted, her voice soft. "He's charming, yes. Sweet sometimes. But… I don't think he's serious about anything."
Mia leaned back, studying her. "Or maybe… he just hasn't been serious about the right person yet."
Before Isabelle could respond, her phone buzzed.
Marco: "Lunch? I'm nearby."
Her heart skipped.
Mia smirked immediately. "Speak of the devil."
"It's just lunch," Isabelle said quickly, grabbing her bag.
"Yeah, yeah," Mia teased. "Go to your 'just lunch' with your 'just fake boyfriend.'"
Marco was already waiting outside when Isabelle arrived, leaning against his car like he owned the street.
"You're late," he teased as she approached.
"I'm five minutes early," she shot back.
"Still late," he grinned, opening the passenger door for her.
As they drove, the conversation flowed easily—teasing, laughter, the kind of comfort that felt… natural. Too natural.
At the restaurant, everything was going fine until a man suddenly approached their table.
"Isabelle?" the man said, smiling. "Wow, it's been a while."
Isabelle's smile faltered slightly. "Oh… hi, Kevin."
Marco's expression changed instantly—subtle, but noticeable.
"Who's this?" Marco asked, his tone calm but his eyes sharp.
"My… ex," Isabelle admitted quietly.
Kevin chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah… we used to date." He glanced at Marco. "And you are?"
Marco leaned back slightly, his arm resting casually on the back of Isabelle's chair. "Her boyfriend."
The word hung in the air.
Kevin nodded, clearly uncomfortable. "Right… well, it was nice seeing you again, Isabelle."
As soon as he left, Isabelle exhaled. "That was… awkward."
"Yeah," Marco said shortly.
She frowned, noticing the shift. "Hey… are you okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" he replied, a little too quickly.
"Marco…" she said softly.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just don't like the way he looked at you."
Isabelle blinked. "Looked at me? He's my ex. Of course it's weird."
"Yeah, but…" Marco paused, then shook his head. "Never mind."
"No, say it," she insisted.
He met her gaze, something intense flickering in his eyes. "I don't like the idea of someone else thinking they still have a chance with you."
Her breath caught.
"Marco… it's fake, remember?" she said quietly.
"Yeah," he said, voice low. "That's what you keep saying."
And suddenly, Isabelle wasn't so sure anymore.