Theressa stood by the window of the moving train, her gaze fixed firmly on the passing cityscape. Marcelo sat beside her, his eyes pleading for her attention, but she refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she held onto the fleeting sights outside as if they were her lifeline.
"Take me back home," she blurted out, her voice quivering with a mix of desperation and defiance. Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears and unresolved emotions.
Marcelo sighed, frustration evident in his tone. "Don't be stubborn, Theressa. Can't you learn a lesson?" His words carried a tinge of exasperation, a reflection of his own inner turmoil.
Theressa swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing with each passing moment. Memories of Pillar flashed before her eyes, a haunting reminder of the consequences of love and attachment. She couldn't shake off the fear that she would meet the same fate one day.
Marcelo's words echoed in her mind, haunting her like a relentless ghost. "I don't need love from anyone." His declaration had pierced through her heart like a dagger, leaving behind a wound that refused to heal.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to block out the painful memories and the harsh reality that awaited her. But Marcelo's voice broke through the silence once again, pulling her back to the present.
Theressa felt the weight of Marcelo's gaze as he turned to her, his frustration palpable in the air. She braced herself for his words, knowing that his concern was laced with a hint of judgment.
"Can you stop acting like a child?" Marcelo's question cut through the silence, his tone a mixture of exasperation and genuine inquiry. He wasn't scolding her, but his words still stung, hitting a nerve she didn't know she had.
She bit back the retort that threatened to escape her lips, swallowing her pride along with her anger. So, this was how he saw her-as a lost soul in need of guidance, a child craving for love and validation. She almost scoffed at the thought, the bitterness rising like bile in her throat.
But before she could voice her protest, Marcelo's next words caught her off guard. "How did you find me?" Theressa muttered, the question slipping out before she could stop it. It wasn't the question she wanted to ask, not really. What she really wanted to know was why it had taken him so long to find her, why he had waited until now to intervene in her downward spiral.
But she knew better than to expect answers from Marcelo. He wasn't her responsibility, and she wasn't his.
Marcelo's revelation hung heavy in the air, the weight of his words suffocating Theressa as they lingered between them. She felt a pang of betrayal pierce through her heart, the truth more painful than she had ever imagined.
"She had you underground. It was hard to find your whereabouts. And so getting a tracker on her was the only way to find you," Marcelo muttered, his voice tinged with regret and resignation.
Theressa's breath caught in her throat, her mind reeling at the thought of being tracked like some sort of prey. The realization left her feeling exposed and vulnerable, her sense of autonomy shattered by the harsh reality of her circumstances.
"And so you had sex with her," Theressa stated, her voice laced with bitterness and disbelief. The words tasted bitter on her tongue, a bitter reminder of the depths to which she had fallen.
"I did not," Marcelo's denial was swift, his tone tinged with desperation. But Theressa couldn't bring herself to believe him, not after everything that had happened. The trust that had once bound them together had been irreparably shattered, leaving behind only the jagged pieces of a broken bond.
She remained silent, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside, her heart heavy with sorrow and regret. She wanted to believe Marcelo, to trust that he had always had her best interests at heart. But the doubts lingered, like shadows in the corners of her mind, refusing to be banished by mere words.
"Take me home," Theressa muttered again, her voice barely above a whisper. But this time, Marcelo didn't reply. Instead, he gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white with tension.
The car lurched forward, the engine roaring to life as Marcelo pushed the accelerator to the floor. The speed was dizzying, the world outside blurring into a chaotic frenzy as they raced down the highway.
Theressa's heart pounded in her chest as Marcelo's fingers tightened around her wrist, pulling her forcefully from the car. She resisted, her defiance palpable in the air, but Marcelo's grip remained unyielding, his determination unwavering.
"Let me go!" she yelled, the desperation in her voice echoing through the empty silence of the mansion grounds. But her pleas fell on deaf ears as Marcelo continued to drag her along, his movements fueled by a mixture of frustration and concern.
Theressa fought against him with every fiber of her being, her struggles only serving to exacerbate the tension between them. But Marcelo remained resolute, his grip unrelenting as he hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
She scolded and hit his shoulder with all the strength she could muster, but Marcelo paid her protests no mind as he ascended the grand staircase with purposeful strides. The world spun around her, a blur of colors and shapes, until they finally reached Marcelo's room.
He dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed, pinning her hands above her head as he loomed over her with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat.
"I'm not letting you go again," Marcelo muttered, his voice low and rough with emotion. His gaze bore into Theressa's, searching for something she couldn't quite name.
"Why?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her own heart. "You don't love me. You made that clear. So what do you want from me?"
The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken truths and unresolved emotions. Theressa waited with bated breath for Marcelo's response, her heart aching with the weight of his silence. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw something there that she hadn't expected-a glimmer of something akin to regret, perhaps, or maybe even longing.
For a moment, they remained locked in a silent standoff, the air thick with tension and unspoken desires.
Marcelo swallowed, and she watched him gulp down nothing.
Marcelo had switched to holding Theressa's two hands with just one of his as he traced Theressa's face with his fingers, not missing any feature on her face. His gaze darkened, and Theressa, she didn't know what she wanted anymore.
"Let me go," she let out, her voice barely above a whisper, her body shivering from Marcelo's touches, her lower body thrusting upward when she felt Marcelo's hand move up her thigh.
She shut her eyes tight, biting down on her lower lip as a tear slipped down her cheek.
Theressa hated the fact that she wanted Marcelo, she hated her reactions to his touches. But she just couldn't control her heart. She couldn't control the blush she felt with every delicate touch from Marcelo.