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THEN:

The golden light of twilight melted into purples and blues as Isla's feet traced a familiar path across the white sands, away from the comfort of Javier’s embrace and toward the complexities that awaited her at home. Her heart was so confused. She knew she loved Javier but also knew she had obligations to live up to. Each step was measured, taken with the resolve of someone who knew the road ahead would require every ounce of strength she possessed.

Her thoughts danced between the warmth of Javier's laughter, echoing like a melody in her mind, and the image of Marcus—kind, unsuspecting Marcus—who played his part in a play he didn't fully understand. Even now, as she approached the back porch of the main house, Isla rehearsed the lines of affection she must deliver, a performance devoid of the fire that burned within her whenever she thought of Javier.

"Hey, Isla," came the gentle voice that always seemed laced with hidden sorrow, which Isla knew all too well.

She lifted her gaze to find Marcus leaning casually against the white picket fence, his sandy-blond hair catching the last light of day. His smile was genuine and reached his eyes—a clear blue that held an ocean of kindness. He had dressed simply, in a soft cotton shirt that complimented the ease of his demeanor, yet behind the casual facade, Isla could sense his eagerness to please, to be the perfect accompaniment to the life her mother had envisioned for her. He had arrived at the island a few hours earlier and would stay with them for a couple of weeks. Her mother had invited him. Meanwhile, Javier’s mom worked at the resort, and he had gone back to help her out, cleaning the bungalows, as she usually did on Saturdays. Isla didn’t understand how it was okay for her to play with Javier when they were children but not okay for her to date him, according to her mother, who had forbidden Isla from seeing him after she caught them kissing in the pantry a year ago. They had known each other all their lives, and it was never a problem for her mother that they hung out together… ever. Not until now. What had changed? Victoria told her then that she wanted her to be with Marcus, and even though he was a nice guy, he was no Javier.

"Marcus," Isla replied, allowing her smile to grace her lips, though it paled in comparison to the one reserved for Javier. "Sorry I'm a bit late. I went for a walk on the beach."

"No problem," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, his tone light but layered with an emotion deeper than the tranquility he portrayed. "The sunset was worth waiting for, wasn't it?"

"Always is," she acknowledged, her words carrying a double meaning, her mind briefly drifting back to Javier before snapping back to the present.

Marcus stepped forward, offering a supportive arm, which Isla took with practiced ease. They began to walk, their footsteps in sync, creating a harmony that contrasted sharply with the discord in Isla's heart. She knew Marcus harbored feelings for her, deep feelings. And she knew, too, that his willingness to maintain this charade, to be her shield against her mother's scrutiny, was born out of a love that expected nothing in return.

They were the picture of a young couple bathed in the innocence of first love. But beneath the surface, under the calm expression that Marcus wore so effortlessly, lay the truth of their situation—a truth that bound them together in a secret that was both their burden and their bond.