Echoes of Glory: FC Barcelona Imagine

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Under the Shade of Secrets (Marc Guiu.)

⚽

You groan softly as your alarm goes off, signaling the start of yet another dreaded school day. You drag yourself out of bed, dreading what awaits you.

It’s not that you hate school itself; it’s your stepsisters. Ever since your dad remarried, they’ve taken every opportunity to make your life miserable.

At first, they’d keep it subtle, especially when your dad was around. But after he passed away, they turned your life into a constant nightmare.

To make matters worse, your stepmother encourages their cruel behavior, often laughing along with them.

You take a deep breath as you glance at yourself in the mirror, knowing there’s no way out of today. As you get dressed, you think about how, at the very least, you don’t have to endure the car ride with your stepsisters.

They get to school in their flashy convertible, laughing and gossiping about you or anyone else they deem unworthy. You, on the other hand, take the bus — not glamorous, but peaceful enough.

When the bus drops you off at school, you notice a sleek, black limousine parked out front. It draws a lot of attention, as students flock to catch a glimpse of whoever might be inside.

You keep walking, uninterested.

You’ve learned not to care about rich kids. They usually turn out to be just like your stepsisters: arrogant, self-absorbed, and cruel.

The day passes slowly, like all the others. You do your best to avoid your stepsisters, managing to slip through the halls unnoticed.

At lunchtime, you head to your usual spot outside, far away from the chaos of the cafeteria where your stepsisters hold court, surrounded by their adoring friends.

As you approach your favorite tree, you dig through your bag for the book you’ve been reading — a small comfort in an otherwise miserable school day.

But before you can settle down, your foot catches on something, and you stumble forward, landing hard on your knees.

With a groan, you look up, rubbing your sore hands, and see a pair of legs stretched out under the tree — the same tree you’ve been claiming as your refuge for as long as you can remember.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” a voice says, and you follow the sound to see a boy sitting there, eyes wide in concern. He reaches out to help you up.

You blink, momentarily stunned. The boy is tall, with sharp, handsome features and kind brown eyes. He's possibly the most attractive guy you’ve ever seen in real life.

And judging by the fact that he was there under the tree you always sit by, you feel a bit flustered.

“N-no, it’s fine,” you mumble, brushing off your hands and accepting his help.

“I didn’t see you there.”

The boy smiles apologetically.

“My fault for sitting in the way.” He lets go of your hand once you’re standing, giving you a sheepish grin.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, dusting off your knees.

“Thanks.”

He settles back down against the tree and pats the ground beside him.

“You can still sit here if you want. I’m Marc, by the way.”

That’s when it hits you. The boy from the limousine. Everyone has been talking about him all morning — the new kid, the one with money, the one who came to school in style.

But for some reason, sitting under the tree with a book in his hand, he doesn’t seem like the type of person your stepsisters would be fawning over.

You introduce yourself, feeling a little awkward but sit down beside him anyway. He seems friendly enough, and you could use the company. The two of you sit in companionable silence, each reading your own books under the shade of the tree.

You exchange occasional glances and small smiles, but neither of you speaks much. It’s peaceful, almost soothing, and for the first time in a long while, you feel a tiny flicker of joy.

That lunchtime becomes the highlight of your day, and over the next few days, it happens again and again. Every day, Marc is there under the tree, waiting. Sometimes he’s reading, sometimes he’s just enjoying the shade.

Either way, the two of you fall into an easy routine, and the more you talk to him, the more you realize he’s different from everyone else. He listens to you, asks about your interests, and never once makes you feel less than him.

Meanwhile, your stepsisters are becoming unbearable. They talk endlessly about Marc, desperate to catch his attention. They have no idea you’ve been spending lunch with him, and you’re not in any hurry to tell them.

If they found out, they would ruin it somehow — you just know it.

Then, one Friday, as the two of you sit under the tree, Marc turns to you with a small, nervous smile.

“Hey, I was wondering… would you like to go out with me sometime? Maybe this weekend?”

Your heart skips a beat. You’re not sure if you heard him right.

Did Marc Guiu, the boy everyone at school is obsessing over, just ask you out? You nod before your brain can catch up.

“Yes,” you manage to say, trying not to sound too eager.

Marc’s face lights up.

“Great. I’ll pick you up around seven?”

You agree, feeling a little dazed as he flashes you another one of his charming smiles.

For the rest of the day, your heart races with excitement, but you don’t dare tell anyone — especially not your stepsisters.

When Friday night comes, you’re ready, nervously pacing in front of your house. You’ve kept quiet all day, hoping your stepsisters wouldn’t catch on. They’re preoccupied, as always, fussing over themselves for their own plans.

But then, right on cue, the sleek black limousine pulls up in front of your house, and you can almost feel the air shift. Your stepsisters gape at the sight from the window, their jaws practically on the floor.

Marc steps out, dressed sharply, and walks toward your door with a smile. He greets you warmly, offering his hand as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

You don’t miss the shocked expressions on your stepsisters’ faces as you walk past them, hand in hand with Marc, and step into the limousine.

As the car drives off, you lean back against the seat, glancing at Marc, who’s looking at you with that same kind, genuine smile. For the first time in a long time, you feel like things might finally be turning in your favor.

to be continued..