Monday morning.
Isabelle woke up feeling heavy.
Her heart hurt—not because she regretted loving Marco, but because she realized she had to protect herself.
She picked up her phone, staring at the screen, but didn't text him.
Not yet.
Not until he figured out what he really wanted.
At work, Marco couldn't focus.
He tried to bury himself in reports, calls, and meetings, but Isabelle's words echoed in his mind:
"You don't get to pull me in… make me believe in something real… and then push me away when it gets hard."
He gritted his teeth.
He had pulled away, yes—but he hadn't wanted it to hurt her. Not like this.
And now… he feared he might have lost her.
Meanwhile, Clara saw the opportunity she had been waiting for.
Marco had pulled back. Isabelle had distanced herself.
Perfect timing.
"Marco," Clara said casually in the office lounge, leaning against the counter. "Are you free for lunch?"
Marco looked up, hesitant. "Uh… yeah, I guess."
Clara smiled faintly. "Great. I thought we could go somewhere quiet… discuss the project—and maybe… more."
Marco swallowed. Something in her tone felt dangerous, tempting, and wrong all at once.
"You mean… lunch," he said cautiously.
"Yes," Clara replied, tilting her head. "Just a friendly lunch… nothing serious. Unless you want it to be."
Marco's heart pounded.
This is a trap, he thought.
But part of him… was curious.
And conflicted.
Back at home, Isabelle forced herself to focus on work too, but every little notification made her flinch, hoping it wasn't him.
Hours passed.
Nothing.
She exhaled heavily, gripping her laptop. "I'm fine," she whispered to herself, though her voice betrayed the lie.
By late afternoon, rumors had started circulating again—people noticing Marco and Clara together at lunch.
Isabelle didn't want to know, but curiosity… or maybe fear… made her scroll through the photos posted online.
Her stomach dropped.
Marco and Clara at Café Lumiere. Smiling. Laughing.
She felt a wave of jealousy and hurt crash over her.
"Of course," she muttered, pushing herself away from the screen.
Her resolve hardened.
If he wants to play games… fine.
I won't be the one hurt this time.
Meanwhile, Marco finished lunch with Clara and stepped outside, guilt gnawing at him.
He hated himself.
He wanted Isabelle. Only Isabelle.
But her distance… her look the last time they saw each other… it had haunted him since.
"I'm messing this up," he whispered under his breath.
And in the distance, he saw a flash of someone walking—someone familiar.
He didn't want to admit it yet.
But he knew…
He needed to fix this.
Before it was too late.