I spent the whole night without managing to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, it was as if I could feel again the warmth of Rafael's lips against mine. My heart raced just remembering the way he held me, the delicacy and intensity of that kiss. My first… and I didn't quite know how to handle everything it had awakened inside me.
But that wasn't the only thing keeping me awake. The image of him disappearing into the darkness, like he always did, replayed endlessly in my mind. Where did Rafael go every night? What could possibly be so important that it pulled him away—even after something like that had happened between us?
The memory of him drenched by the rain came back strong, and an unexpected fear pierced through me: what if he got sick?
I tossed and turned, hugging my pillow, searching for a rest that never came. I was torn between two feelings that refused to mix: the heart that had just discovered the taste of a kiss, and the mind desperate to unravel the mysteries Rafael kept hidden.
Then another thought caught me by surprise: what would tomorrow be like? Would Rafael act as if nothing had happened? The idea alone made my chest ache with disappointment. But what if it was the opposite? What if he looked at me differently, if he took my hand without hesitation, even in front of his father? The thought made me shiver.
And then came the hardest part: the landlord. How could I face him after that night? How could I sit at the same table, hear his calm voice, pretend everything was normal… while carrying such a burning secret inside me? I wanted to smile, to act natural, but at the same time, all I wanted was to hide, to run away, to disappear from shame and anxiety.
The day had already dawned some time ago, but I hadn't even noticed. The room was bright, soft morning light slipping through the curtains, yet I remained lost in thought, rolling in bed as if the night hadn't ended.
It was the sudden ring of the phone that pulled me out of my daze. I startled so hard that I answered without even checking the number.
— Helena? — my mother's voice came, agitated, full of longing. — Do you want your father and me to die of missing you? Are you already on break? When are you coming to visit us?
I stammered. Words tumbled clumsily from my lips, as if I'd forgotten how to speak. I made up some excuse, said I was tired from the end of the semester, but promised that I'd come see them later that week.
She went on chatting, about the weather, about the neighbor who had changed the color of her house front, about how my room was exactly as I'd left it. I tried to reply with enthusiasm, to sound engaged in the conversation. But inside, a knot kept growing in my throat.
When I hung up, I pressed the phone to my chest. The truth was simple and cruel: I didn't want to leave Rafael. Not now. Not after everything. But guilt came like a wave, reminding me of my parents, of how much they missed me, of the longing I should be feeling too.
While I was still tangled in my thoughts, a strange noise outside made me raise my eyes. I pulled the curtain aside and, for a second, thought I was dreaming awake: there was a police car parked in front of the landlord's house.
My heart skipped when I saw Rafael being placed in the back seat. His head lowered, his shoulders tense. I didn't think twice. I ran down the stairs, nearly tripping, but when I reached the gate, the car was already pulling away, leaving only the red lights fading into the corner.
The landlord was standing there. His face serious, his hands restless. He looked as lost as I was, but I didn't even greet him.— What happened? Why did they take Rafael? — I asked, my voice trembling, as if it didn't belong to me.
He took a deep breath, searching for firmness.— The corner store was robbed during the night. The cameras recorded Rafael passing right after. They said they need his statement.
The image of him drenched in rain, vanishing into the night before, hit me all at once, like a punch in the stomach. A chill ran up my spine.
— I need to go to the station — the landlord added, already walking quickly. — Maybe find a lawyer and bring my son back.
I wanted to say I'd go with him, but the voices from university invaded my mind, sharp as knives: "He's always in trouble.""He left a friend in a coma.""One day he'll end up in jail." I closed my eyes, desperate to shut them out. Had I been blind this whole time?
I dragged myself back home, each step heavier than the last, trying to stitch together some logic that might convince me it was all a mistake. But the pieces wouldn't fit. Everything pointed to the worst.
I shut the door gently. Let myself sink onto the small step by the entrance, hugging my knees, trying to shrink until I vanished. The house felt huge, cold, too quiet. And me… I just wanted to wake up from a nightmare that was far from over.