If you only knew...

20.The choice

Ana's POV

One day passed since I had the life-changing experience that shifted something inside me, and our boss decided to pause all our ongoing missions for the time being. I was granted some time off, during which my partner could recover. The doctors had warned me that the road ahead would be long and he wouldn't be able to return to the field any soon.

I haven't had the chance to visit Xavier yet; the hospital's strict protocols wouldn't allow any visitors until he was stable enough to leave intensive therapy.

The thought of him in that fragile state haunts me. I can't shake off the overwhelming fear that I was perilously close to losing him. My mind races with worries and what-ifs, leaving me unable to eat, rest, or think with clarity. Each moment feels stretched thin under the pressure of my anxiety.

I feel a bit frustrated with myself because, in all the chaos, I never got the chance to ask for his phone number. Everything happened so quickly that I didn't have the courage or the opportunity to find a way to ask him for his contact information...

In desperate need of solace, I reached for my phone and dialed Marco earlier. I craved his comforting presence, though guilt gnawed at me for my thoughts and actions. I told him everything—the harrowing experiences we had faced, the sheer terror that gripped me, and my current overwhelming sense of unease. Without hesitation, he made his way to me, knowing exactly how to lift my spirits.

He arrives quickly, a warm smile lighting up his face as he steps through the agency's gate.

"Ana, my love!" he exclaims, his voice filled with relief as he envelops me in a tight embrace, momentarily easing the heavy burden on my heart.

He walks into my room, holding my favorite chocolates. They look so tempting, but I can't touch them; my stomach is tied in knots, and I just don't feel hungry at all.

"Sweetheart, you need to relax. You're safe now; worrying like this isn't going to help!" he says, clearly unsettled by how I was feeling.

"I can't, Marco. I've made mistakes that I can't undo. I hurt someone due to my reckless actions, and he nearly lost his life in front of me..." I say, my voice filled with a mix of anger, sadness, and frustration.

He sits down on the bed beside me, putting his hand on my arm while speaking seriously.

"Can't you just stop fixating on that and appreciate that you're alive? Your parents and I were terrified when we heard what happened! He's going to be okay; you don't need to feel sorry for him now."

"Do you hear what you're saying, Marco?" I ask, feeling a strong sense of disappointment at his lack of empathy.

"Absolutely, and it really angers me when my beloved fiancé thinks about someone else right now!" he exclaims, his voice rising with jealousy. "Come on, you did touch him too, didn't you?" he adds, frustration and jealousy clearly evident in his tone as he can't hide it anymore.

"What do you mean by touching him??" I ask, completely puzzled by both his question and attitude.

"You claimed you treated his wound, that you held him on the grass while waiting for help, and even offered him your blood transfusion," he says, jealousy creeping into his voice and coloring his features.
"I can't believe you're okay with that and still pretend to be the one grieving!" he exclaims, his hand withdrawing from my arm as he rakes his fingers through his hair in frustration.

I have never seen Marco like this—full of possessiveness and raw emotion. Perhaps he'd never had the chance to express it; after all, I'd been by his side since childhood.