Second Chance

A man confessed

The silence hanging between us was anything but pleasant. Angelina had dozed off, her red eyes a testament to the tears she’d shed, while Marcus sat beside her, nervously nibbling at his nails on one hand and gently touching Angelina's face with the other.

After Elian had shared the most heartbreaking love story I've ever heard, I had planned to distract myself with one of those Serial Killer shows; after all, it's hard to cry when your brain's been traumatized, But it appeared life had other plans.

I glanced over at Marcus, who looked like he was about to chew off his thumb, likely mistaking it for one of those pens he mindlessly gnawed on. “Why didn’t you wait until we talked about it?” I asked him.

He turned to me, concern etched in his features. “I couldn’t keep pretending I still loved her. It just didn’t feel right anymore.” I studied Marcus closely. The fact that he used the word "still" suggested there was a time when he had genuinely loved her.

“What made you stop loving her?” I pressed, trying to avoid his usual “Isn’t it obvious?” response. He stood up, looking at me with such soft eyes that part of me wished I could just pop them out, freeze-frame that moment, and really understand what he was feeling.

He finally opened up, saying, "Kourtney, I fell for someone else. I can't pinpoint when or how it happened, but I know it did! And I realized I couldn’t be with her because she was already taken. I felt powerless to help her escape that abusive situation since I was just the boyfriend of one of her friends, just another background character in her story."

I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. "Wait, Marcus, are you talking about me?" I asked, a mix of hope and disbelief rising in me. He suddenly took my hands in his, holding them tightly. "When I heard she was out of that relationship, it felt like a sign from above — my chance to be with the one I truly loved."

I could feel my hands trembling, heart racing faster than Angelina's snores. Marcus looked deep into my eyes and continued, "I knew I didn’t deserve her, that I should have done more to help her break free from that toxic relationship. I was aware of all this, but…"

He wrapped me in a warm embrace while I frantically tried to process his words. Even though I was completely lost in what was happening, there was one clear truth: I had to face emotions I'd always tried to avoid.

I’d dreamt of being with someone I genuinely loved, yet I kept distancing myself, terrified of getting hurt or maybe just brushing it off with a laugh like the silly cockroach I am. I needed to confront my own reality.

Honestly, if Marcus wasn’t with Angelina and he asked me out, I wouldn’t be able to turn him down. He doesn’t have any truly annoying traits, and now, as he stands before me pouring out his heart, I’m at a loss for how to react.

"I think we need to prioritize your pregnant girlfriend right now and save your feelings for later," I said as he pulled away from the hug. He shook his head defiantly, "No way, I want to confront everything directly. I’m done running." I looked at him, feeling like my heart was about to shatter.

"Honestly, Marcus, I need to be straightforward for the first time in ages. I can’t be with you—not after you broke my friend's heart and made her think she was getting a proposal. I get it, it’s not entirely your fault, but it’s not hers either."

Marcus sank back into the couch, gently running his fingers through Angelina's hair. There was no doubt he once loved her; any guy who could deal with her 3AM shenanigans truly cared.

I really craved to be with someone special—someone who’d take my hand while we strolled, whisk me away to carousels, and even wrap themselves up as a Christmas surprise for me. Someone who genuinely loved me.

But if being with that person meant losing the one who had always been my rock—the one who once tossed Oscar into the trash by "mistake" and was always eager to listen to my troubles—then I didn’t want it. Even if I had ever had feelings for Marcus, they vanished the moment I saw Angelina in tears.

I opened my mouth to say something to Marcus, but he quickly cut me off with a nod. “No need to talk,” he said. “I get it.” I managed a small smile and glanced over at Angelina, who looked like the Angel she wasn't .“I should grab her favorite coffee from that shop; it always seems to soothe her,” I said, heading to my room to change my shirt, which was drenched from Elian's tears.

I settled into a chair beside the counter, taking a moment to breathe and shake off the events of the day. The gentle sounds of dogs barking from my phone helped me unwind as I tried to forget about everything. I was aware that once Angelina stirred from her nap, we’d have a new case on our hands, but I figured that was a night problem—I wanted to savor this peaceful afternoon.

Just then, I felt a light tap on my shoulder and turned, somewhat annoyed, to see who it was. Standing there was a guy in a paint-stained apron, a palette in hand. His white hair and glasses framed his striking green eyes, but there was something off-putting about him—like one of those freeloading house mice that make themselves too comfortable.

“I spied you from a distance and knew I had to capture your beauty,” he said with a wide grin. “Let me make you art, mademoiselle.” His words rolled off the tongue, striking a contrast with his Kid-like appearance, and yet he somehow seemed vaguely familiar.

I rested my chin on my hand, leaning my elbow on my knee. "I could see your point, but what if I want to play a little hard to get?"

He flashed a smirk. "In that case, I'll just have to put in the effort to win you over." His confidence was infectious, almost like a soothing balm for my fried brain.

"And how exactly are you planning to do that?" I asked, grinning playfully.

He pulled up a chair and settled in. "How about a milk-drinking contest?"