Monday morning. Isabelle walked into the office feeling… different.
Not because of work.
But because of Marco.
She caught herself smiling for no reason, replaying their conversation from yesterday. The way everything felt easy. Natural. Real.
"Someone's in a good mood," Mia teased, appearing beside her desk.
Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Don't start."
"Oh, I will," Mia grinned. "You and Marco? Official na ba?"
Isabelle hesitated. "We're… trying."
Mia gasped dramatically. "Trying? That's basically a yes!"
Before Isabelle could respond, whispers started spreading across the office.
"Isn't that her?"
"Marco Reyes' girlfriend?"
"I heard it's just for show…"
Isabelle froze.
Her stomach tightened as she pretended not to hear, but every word felt louder than the last.
Mia frowned. "People talk too much."
"Yeah…" Isabelle said quietly.
But deep inside, the words echoed.
Just for show.
Later that day, Isabelle met Marco outside his building.
"You okay?" he asked immediately, noticing her expression.
She forced a small smile. "Yeah. Just… office stuff."
He studied her. "That doesn't sound convincing."
She sighed. "People are talking."
"About us?"
She nodded. "Some think it's fake. Some think I'm just… temporary."
Marco's jaw tightened. "And what do you think?"
She looked at him, caught off guard. "What?"
"Do you think this is fake?" he asked, his voice calm but serious.
Her heart pounded. "No… but—"
"But what?"
"But it started that way," she admitted. "And now… I don't know how to explain it to people. Or even to myself."
Marco stepped closer. "Then don't explain it to them."
She frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean… let them talk," he said. "We know what this is. That should be enough."
"Is it?" she asked softly.
He held her gaze. "Isn't it?"
Silence fell between them.
Because the truth was… Isabelle wasn't sure anymore.
That evening, they decided to grab dinner at a nearby restaurant.
At first, everything felt normal—laughter, teasing, soft touches.
Until Isabelle noticed a group of people at the next table whispering and glancing their way.
"Is that Marco?"
"Who's the girl?"
"I thought he doesn't do serious relationships…"
Her chest tightened.
Marco noticed immediately. "Hey," he said gently. "Ignore them."
"I'm trying," she whispered.
He reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Look at me."
She did.
"They don't matter," he said softly. "You do."
Her heart skipped.
"But what if they're right?" she asked quietly. "What if this doesn't last?"
Marco didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stood up, walked around the table, and gently pulled her to her feet.
"Then we prove them wrong," he said.
Before she could react, he leaned in and kissed her.
Soft. Certain. Real.
The whispers around them faded.
All Isabelle could feel was him.
When he pulled back, their foreheads rested together.
"Still think this is fake?" he murmured.
Her breath was unsteady, her heart racing.
"No…" she whispered.
And for the first time, despite the rumors, the doubts, the noise—
Isabelle chose to believe in them.