Hanna knew something was wrong the moment Marco picked her up from her latest tutoring session with Finn. His face was tense, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as they drove in silence. She could feel his anger radiating off him, thickening the air between them, and she braced herself, waiting for the inevitable explosion.
The moment they were out of the school parking lot, Marco broke the silence.
“So, how was your time with Finn?” His voice was cold, laced with sarcasm, and he didn’t look at her.
Hanna sighed, choosing her words carefully. “We went over my English essay, Marco. It was just tutoring.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “Just tutoring, huh? Because it seems like every time you’re with him, you come back different. Like maybe you miss him, and you’re using this tutoring thing as an excuse to spend time with him.”
“Marco, that’s not fair,” she said, frustration creeping into her voice. “I told you, I’m doing this to keep my grades up. It has nothing to do with my feelings for Finn.”
“Oh, so you admit you still have feelings for him?” His voice was louder now, filled with accusation.
“No, Marco!” she protested, feeling her patience fraying. “I don’t have feelings for him. I’m with youMarco pulled over suddenly, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he turned to face her, his eyes dark and intense. “Because I’m not blind, Hanna. I see the way you look at him. The way you defend him. You can say you’re with me, but your heart is still somewhere else. And I won’t stand by while you pretend otherwise.”
She stared at him, shaken by the harshness in his tone, by the way he looked at her like she was slipping away, no matter what she said. “Marco, you’re acting like… like you don’t trust me. This isn’t fair.”
His jaw clenched, and for a moment, his gaze softened, but only slightly. “Maybe it’s because I don’t,” he muttered, his voice low. “Because I know what it’s like to lose to someone like him, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to lose you too.”
Hanna felt a pang of sadness, but also a spark of anger. She reached for the door handle, needing air, needing distance. “This isn’t about him. It’s about you not being able to handle my past. And if you can’t, then maybe this isn’t working.”
Marco’s expression hardened, and he turned away, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Maybe it’s not.”
The weight of his words settled heavily between them as she opened the door and stepped out, the sound of her heels echoing in the silence.