The rain hadn't stopped.
If anything, it grew heavier—like the night itself refused to let them go.
Marco's question still hung in the air.
"Do you love him?"
Andrea felt her chest tighten.
Why is he asking that… now of all times…
"I—"
No answer came out.
And that scared her.
Because she always had an answer before.
Always.
Marco took a step closer.
"Look at me, Andrea."
Don't… please don't make this harder…
"I said I moved on," she replied, her voice trembling despite trying to sound firm.
"That's not what I asked."
Silence.
The kind that feels louder than any storm.
Andrea forced herself to meet his eyes.
Big mistake.
Because everything came rushing back—the way he used to look at her, the way he made her feel like she was enough.
Stop… you're not that girl anymore…
"I'm getting married," she said.
Marco's expression didn't change.
But his jaw tightened.
"When?"
"…Soon."
Why does that feel like a lie even when it's true…
Marco let out a slow breath, running a hand through his wet hair.
"Do you love him?" he repeated.
Andrea clenched her fists.
"Why does it matter to you?"
"It matters because—" he stopped himself.
Because what?
Andrea waited.
But he didn't finish.
Of course… just like before.
"You don't get to care now," she said, her voice sharper. "You lost that chance two years ago."
Marco looked at her, something unreadable in his eyes.
"I know."
Those two words hit harder than anything else.
Then why does it still feel like you didn't…
A loud rumble of thunder shook the sky.
Andrea flinched slightly.
Marco noticed.
He always noticed.
Without thinking, he took off his jacket and gently placed it over her shoulders.
Andrea froze.
This… this is exactly how it used to be…
"Don't," she whispered, her hand gripping the fabric. "Don't do things like this."
"Why?" he asked quietly.
"Because it confuses me."
There.
She said it.
And now there was no taking it back.
Marco's eyes softened.
"For two years, I've been confused too."
Andrea looked up at him.
"What do you mean?"
Marco hesitated.
Like he was choosing between saying the truth… or protecting her from it.
"I didn't leave because I wanted to."
Andrea frowned.
"Then why did you?"
Marco opened his mouth—
But before he could answer—
A car horn echoed down the street.
Both of them turned.
A sleek black car stopped a few meters away.
The door opened.
And a man stepped out.
Clean suit. Confident posture.
The kind of man who looked like he belonged in a different world.
Andrea's world.
"Andrea."
Her heart dropped.
No… not now…
Marco's gaze shifted between them.
"…Who's that?"
Andrea swallowed.
"My fiancé."
Silence.
Heavy. Suffocating.
The man walked closer, his eyes immediately landing on Marco… then on the jacket wrapped around Andrea.
His expression hardened.
"I've been calling you," he said, his tone controlled but cold. "Who is he?"
Andrea felt the tension rising.
"This is—"
"Marco."
He answered first.
Stepping forward.
Standing straighter.
Like he suddenly remembered who he was.
"And you are?"
The fiancé gave a faint, almost mocking smile.
"The man she chose."
Those words cut deep.
Deeper than Andrea expected.
Marco didn't react.
But Andrea saw it.
That small flicker in his eyes.
Why does that hurt me too…
The rain continued to fall between them.
Three people.
One past.
One present.
And a choice that was about to change everything.