The first night in that house didn't feel real. I should have been more exhausted than any decent human being, but my body was too awake—maybe from the shock of the day, maybe because Rafael was there.
To keep from thinking too much, I started rummaging through the fridge. My mom always left containers of ready-made food, as if she anticipated someone might drop in out of nowhere.
— I think I can improvise dinner — I murmured, opening lids, smelling the contents, trying to function like a normal person.
Rafael appeared in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame, his gaze too attentive.
— Want help?
— No — I replied, grabbing two plates. — I mean… you can sit… I've got it.
He didn't sit. He stayed there, watching. And I tried to pretend that didn't completely undo me.
I prepared something simple—rice, shredded chicken, vegetables heated in the microwave… nothing special.
We sat at the small table, the same one where I used to do homework as a child.
For a few minutes, there was only the sound of cutlery, until I spoke.
— I'm so relieved they're okay — I said, stirring the rice. — Truly. I thought I was going to get… worse news.
— I know — Rafael replied softly. — And you handled it really well.
I let out a short laugh.
— I didn't handle it well at all… I almost passed out in the university hallway.
He shrugged, clearly unwilling to accept any version that diminished what I had done.
Silence returned… until I found the courage to say what was pressing inside me.
— You should go back tomorrow — I said, still looking at my plate. — It's not worth missing so many classes because of me. I'll stay here, and—
— No. — He cut me off, leaving no room for discussion. — While you're here alone, I'm staying.
My heart jolted.
— Rafael…
— Don't even try to argue — he insisted, meeting my face with conviction. — I'm not doing you a favor. I'm doing what I want to do.
Warmth rose in my chest, spread up my neck, my nape. It was ridiculous how one sentence from him could set me on fire inside.
We finished dinner slowly, as if neither of us wanted to be the first to get up.
When I stood to clear the plates, he stood too—of course, because sitting while I did anything seemed forbidden to him.
— I'll help — he said, already grabbing the bowls before I could protest.
We stood side by side at the sink when he spoke.
— I think I'll take a shower before bed.
The word shower felt too big for that small kitchen.I felt my face heat up.
— I'll go too — I replied too quickly. — But… you go first.
— No, you go. — He shot back, looking away, clearly red. — You… anyway… today was heavier for you.
And there we were—two adults acting like teenagers because being alone for an entire night in a house felt far too intimate.
I laughed softly, awkwardly.
— Then I'll go — I said, trying to sound normal.
— Okay — he replied, scratching the back of his neck. — I'll stay here… finish tidying this up.
I showered as fast as I could, but the water didn't calm me. I stepped out with my heart still racing and put on a white T-shirt and short shorts—the most comfortable things I had. In the rush, I didn't even think to grab pajamas. I wrapped a towel around my head and opened the door.
Rafael was on the living room sofa, the TV on some random channel, blue light illuminating his face. When he saw me, he stood up almost instantly.
— I'll take a shower too — he said, giving a small smile.
— I'll… make your bed while you're at it — I replied, holding the towel on my head with one hand and trying to look less nervous than I was.
He nodded.
— With this heat, just a sheet will do.
He went into the bathroom and closed the door. The sound of running water echoed through the house.
I made his bed slowly. Took clean sheets from my closet, stretched the sheet, adjusted the pillow. For a moment I just stood there, looking at it… Rafael sleeping in my teenage bed, in the room that had once been his. Life took turns that were far too strange.
When he came out of the shower, he was barefoot, wearing black shorts and a simple white T-shirt. His wet hair fell slightly over his forehead. He looked… calm. Almost light.
— It's all set — I said, pointing to the bed. — If you get cold, there's a blanket in the corner of the wardrobe.
He looked at the bed, then at me.
— Okay, and… try to rest a bit, Helena. It was a long day.
I nodded, even knowing rest was impossible.
— Good night.
— Good night.
I went to my parents' bedroom. Their bed had that smell of a living home, of family, and it tightened my chest. I picked up my phone.
"Mom, everything okay there?"
The reply came in less than a minute.
"Everything's great, sweetheart. We're fine. Sleep peacefully. ❤️"
I smiled weakly, sent a kiss emoji, and left the phone on the nightstand.
I turned to one side, then the other… no sleep. The silence of the house felt too big, and my mind… even bigger.
I got up and went to the kitchen for some water.
The light was off, the house half-lit by the glow from the street. When I went to put the glass away, a shadow appeared in the doorway. I startled lightly—and it was him.
Rafael leaned against the frame, arms crossed.
— Hard to fall asleep? — he asked, voice low, rough with exhaustion.
I nodded, setting the glass on the counter.
— Very.
He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the still-damp strands.
— Me too. — Then he gave a crooked half-smile. — We could… I don't know… put on our show in the living room. Sometimes getting back into routine helps, you know?
My chest tightened in a good way.
— I think that's a good idea.
We went to the living room. I turned on the TV, put on the right episode, and sat on the sofa. Rafael automatically pulled me closer, his arm sliding over my shoulders, just like every night. And I felt a shiver run through me… just like every night.
We started watching… I tried to follow, but the exhaustion was winning. About twenty minutes in, my eyes grew heavy. Rafael noticed and gently pulled me, guiding my body until I was lying on the sofa, my head resting on his lap.
— Like this — he murmured, adjusting a strand of my hair. — It's more comfortable.
His touch was light but firm. His hand slid into my hair, stroking it slowly, rhythmically. My body relaxed completely.
The last thing I remember was his breathing—far too calm for a day like that—and the way my fingers almost touched his T-shirt before I finally gave in to sleep.