Wednesday morning.
Isabelle was sipping her coffee when her phone buzzed.
Marco: "Lunch? My treat. Just us. No distractions."
Her heart skipped.
She hesitated, then typed back: "Okay."
At the café, Marco was already waiting, a small smile on his face.
"You made it," he said, standing to pull out her chair.
"Of course," Isabelle replied, trying to act casual.
"Good," he said softly. "I wanted to do something… to show you I'm serious. That I'm here for real."
Isabelle raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"
Marco reached into his bag and pulled out a small notebook. "I've been keeping a journal. Every day I'm with you, I write something—something I love about you, something I want to do with you, or how I felt. I want you to read it… when you're ready."
Her eyes widened. "Marco… that's… wow."
He shrugged, trying to hide the nervousness. "I know it's cheesy. But I want you to see… I mean every word."
Tears threatened her eyes. "I… I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll let me try," he whispered.
She smiled faintly. "I will… I think."
But just as the moment softened, a shadow appeared—Clara.
"Oh, Marco! Fancy seeing you here," Clara's voice was sweet, but every word dripped with intent.
Isabelle's stomach sank.
Marco stiffened. "Clara…"
Clara smiled, ignoring Isabelle entirely. "I was just about to grab a table. Maybe you can join me, Marco?"
Marco looked at Isabelle. Her hands were gripping the edge of the table.
"I'm here with Isabelle," he said firmly.
Clara tilted her head, pretending to be casual. "Of course… just thought I'd invite. No pressure."
Isabelle's jaw tightened. "No pressure, huh?" she muttered under her breath.
Marco noticed her tension and reached for her hand under the table, squeezing it gently.
"Ignore her," he whispered.
Clara smiled faintly, then leaned back, letting the moment hang—but the tension didn't dissipate.
After Clara left, Isabelle finally exhaled.
"That was… stressful," she admitted.
"I know," Marco said. "And I'm sorry. I should have handled her better."
"No," she shook her head. "You did great. You stood by me."
His smile softened. "That's because I mean it, Isabelle. I don't want anyone else but you. Not her. Not anyone."
She looked down at their hands, intertwined. "I want to believe that… I really do."
"You will," he promised. "And I'll keep showing you—every day, every moment. Until you know, without a doubt, that this is real. Us."
Her heart warmed.
And for the first time in days, she didn't feel like she had to pull away.
But deep down, Isabelle knew one thing: Clara wasn't done yet.
The interference was far from over.
And the battle for Marco's heart—and for theirs—was just beginning.