Theressa sat on the bench, feeling the fabric of Marcelo's suit jacket against her skin. It was an odd sensation, the juxtaposition of the rough texture against the softness of her own clothes. She couldn't shake the feeling of dirtiness that clung to her, the residue of sweat and fear that had soaked into her pores during their tumultuous encounter. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the creases in the fabric, a futile attempt to distract herself from the heaviness in her heart.
Marcelo sat beside her, his posture rigid and his gaze fixed firmly on the ground. The distance between them felt like an unbridgeable chasm, a stark reminder of the walls that had been erected between them. Theressa could feel the weight of his silence pressing down on her, suffocating her with its intensity.
"You said you didn't love me, so why? Why are you doing this?" Theressa's voice wavered as she spoke, the lump in her throat making it difficult to articulate her words. She felt vulnerable, exposed, as if each syllable she uttered was a baring of her soul.
Marcelo remained stoic, unmoving, his silence a palpable barrier between them. It was as if he were a statue, carved from stone and devoid of emotion. The air around them seemed to crackle with tension, the unspoken words hanging between them like a heavy fog.
"I'm not some property or-" Theressa's voice trailed off as she struggled to find the right words. This conversation was uncharted territory for them, a precarious dance on the edge of a precipice. She hesitated, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts and emotions, before finally finding her voice again. "I'm not some property or pawn in your game, Marcelo,"
Her words hung in the air, a challenge and a plea wrapped into one. She wanted answers, needed them, but she feared what she might uncover. The truth was a double-edged sword, capable of both freeing and destroying her.
Marcelo's gaze remained fixed on the ground, his expression unreadable. It was as if he were lost in his own thoughts, a world away from her reality. She longed to reach out to him, to bridge the gap that had formed between them, but she hesitated, unsure of where they stood.
"I can't love you. I'm doing all this for your safety," Marcelo finally spoke, his voice devoid of emotion. It was a statement of fact, a cold reminder of the reality they found themselves in.
But that wasn't the same for Theressa. That wasn't the reality she wanted to be faced with, if Marcelo could stop blocking out his feelings, stop hiding things from her and just be true with her things will be different between them.
Theressa felt a surge of anger rise within her, hot and fierce. It was a familiar sensation, one she had grown accustomed to in the presence of Marcelo. She refused to let him dictate her fate, refused to be a pawn in his game any longer.
"No, you're not!!" Theressa spat, her voice tinged with desperation. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over as she fought to hold them back. "If you cared about my safety, you wouldn't have suggested my mother leave to find a murderer all by herself. You knew I would be against it. You had your own plans to ruin my life, didn't you?!"
Her words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and pain. She felt the weight of Marcelo's silence pressing down on her, suffocating her with its intensity. She longed for him to say something, anything, to break the oppressive stillness that surrounded them.
Getting Theressa to believe her mother would be safer by leaving the country was a cover-up for his actual plan. Marcelo was hiding something, and Theressa could feel it. The tension in the air crackled with unspoken words, each one a dagger aimed at her heart.
"Justin is not the problem, and you know that," Theressa continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "And you know something about my father's death."
She had reasoned everything. Marcelo indeed was hiding something from her. The brother of the man who was in her father's grave at the moment was working under Marcelo, and there was no way Marcelo had not investigated him, yet he chose to hide what she needed to know.
"Just let me handle it. There's nothing you can do, so just stay put," Marcelo stated, his voice deep, low, and filled with thoughts.
Theressa laughed bitterly, the sound echoing in the empty space between them. It was a hollow sound, devoid of joy or mirth, a reflection of the emptiness she felt inside.
"You want me to stay put?" Theressa questioned, incredulous. "While my mother is out there in God knows where??" She gestured wildly, her frustration bubbling to the surface.
"She's safe, okay?" Marcelo snapped, his patience wearing thin. He turned towards the door, his movements stiff and mechanical.
"How do you know that?" Theressa couldn't help but question, her voice holding a hint of suspicion.
Marcelo halted in his tracks, his back still turned to her. She could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as they stood on the precipice of a truth neither of them were ready to face.
Theressa took Marcelo's silence as confirmation of her worst fears. She felt a surge of anger rise within her, hot and fierce, as she struggled to make sense of his actions.
"Why are you hiding all this from me? What is keeping you from telling me the truth, Marcelo?!" Theressa yelled, her voice breaking as she fought to hold back tears.
She couldn't bear to look at him, couldn't bear to see the truth reflected in his eyes. She had a million thoughts and possibilities running through her mind, each one more terrifying than the last.
"If you find out, I don't think I would ever get to hear you confess your feelings to me anymore," Marcelo said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.