It was already afternoon. Zara and Marco had spent the morning together, laughing, walking around, and even sharing a simple meal. They had joked about little things—like Marco refusing to eat sushi.
"I swear, Zara," he said, pushing a piece of sushi away with a grimace, "I don't understand why anyone eats this. Raw fish? Really?"
Zara laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. "You're ridiculous! Just try it, Marco."
He rolled his eyes but picked up one tiny piece, putting it in his mouth. He made an exaggerated disgusted face that made her laugh even harder.
"You look ridiculous," she said, trying to catch her breath from laughing.
"And you look adorable," he whispered, watching her. Zara felt heat rush to her cheeks. She quickly looked down, embarrassed by the flutter in her chest she didn't understand.
Later, Marco went to his office to handle some things. Zara wandered into the sitting area with a book she had picked from the shelf, quietly reading. Marco paused at his office door for a moment, watching her. The sunlight hit her hair just right, and for a brief second, he forgot about the call that had just come through.
Then his phone rang. He answered sharply, and his expression hardened. "Yes… understood. Prepare everything immediately." He hung up, sighing.
Zara looked up. "Marco…?"
He walked toward her, slow and deliberate, pausing behind her chair as she remained absorbed in her book. "Zara," he said softly, making her look up at him. "I have to leave the country. Something urgent came up… I cannot postpone it."
Her chest tightened. "You… have to go?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," he said, stepping closer, his eyes soft but serious. "I wish I didn't, but it can't be helped."
He pulled a sleek black card from his pocket and handed it to her. "Take this. Anything you or the little one need, use it. Don't wait for anyone else. Promise me you'll only use it if it's necessary."
Her hands trembled slightly as she took the card. "I… I understand," she said softly, unable to meet his piercing blue eyes.
He studied her for a long moment, then cupped her cheek gently with one hand. "I wish I could stay," he whispered. "I hate leaving you like this."
Her heart ached, and she couldn't stop the tiny whimper escaping her lips. "I… I don't want you to go," she admitted.
Marco's eyes softened even more. "Come with me," he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the garage. His men were already waiting by the black cars, ready. Zara held Elena close, her heart racing.
Before he got into the car, Marco stopped and turned to her. "Zara…" His voice was low, intense. And then—he kissed her.
It wasn't a quick peck. It was long, slow, consuming, as if he was trying to leave a piece of himself with her. Zara froze, her chest tight, her knees weak. When he finally pulled back, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"Wait for me," he whispered. "I'll be back as soon as I can. And when I return, I want to see you safe… smiling… happy."
He stepped into the car, leaving her standing there, clutching the black card. She watched silently as the vehicle disappeared from sight, her chest aching with longing and worry.
Back inside the mansion, the quiet felt heavier without him. Zara wandered through the halls, talking to the maids and guards, helping wherever she could—cooking, cleaning, tidying—trying to distract herself from thinking about Marco.
By evening, she decided to take Elena to the mall. The little angel giggled in her arms as Zara picked out clothes and small toys for her and a few things for herself. Every small task reminded her of Marco, of the afternoon they had shared, of his smile, his teasing, and that long, unexpected kiss.
And somewhere deep inside, she realized the truth: she already missed him more than she had thought possible, and her feelings for him were growing stronger by the minute.