𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 ― rafe cameron

οκτώ ; 8

song of the chapter:
WHAT ONCE WAS ; her's

The moonlight continued to shimmer off the water, casting a silver glow over the docks. Margarita and Rafe sat in companionable silence, each lost in their thoughts. The quiet between them was soothing, a contrast to the turmoil inside Margarita's mind. She hadn't expected to find herself here tonight, sharing parts of herself that she normally kept hidden. But with Rafe, it felt... different. Safer, in a way she hadn't anticipated.

Rafe leaned back on his hands, staring out at the horizon. His earlier curiosity about her tattoos had given way to a contemplative stillness. "It's crazy, you know?" he said after a long pause, his voice low. "How we go through life, carrying all this weight, all these stories, and nobody ever really sees them. They just see what's on the surface."

Margarita glanced at him, his profile sharp against the backdrop of the moonlit sea. "Yeah," she murmured. "Most people don't bother looking past what's easy to see."

Rafe exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "I've been that guy, you know? The one who doesn't look deeper. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but... I think I'm starting to realize how much I've missed because of it."

Margarita's chest tightened at his words. She understood what he meant, maybe too well. For years, she'd been hiding behind a facade, trying to fit into the version of herself that others expected. It was exhausting, and tonight felt like the first time she was truly peeling back those layers.

"I've done it too," she admitted softly, surprising even herself. "Letting people see only what I want them to. It's easier that way... less complicated. But after a while, it gets lonely."

Rafe turned his head, his blue eyes catching hers. "Lonely's an understatement," he said quietly. "But maybe... we don't have to stay that way."

His words hung in the air, a tentative offer, or perhaps a reflection of his own fears. Margarita didn't know how to respond, so she simply nodded, allowing the silence to settle again.

They stayed like that for a while, the soft rhythm of the waves lulling them into a shared peace. Margarita leaned her head back, closing her eyes and letting the cool night breeze brush against her skin. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe.

But that moment of serenity was cut short by the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. The quiet of the night seemed to shift, the air growing heavier. Margarita tensed, her eyes snapping open as she turned to see a figure emerging from the shadows of the dock.

It was Ward Cameron.

Rafe's father strode toward them, his expression hard and unreadable. His presence immediately shifted the atmosphere, the comfortable ease between Margarita and Rafe dissolving in an instant. Margarita's heart quickened, her mind racing. She had no idea what Ward was doing here, but the tension in Rafe's posture told her that whatever it was, it wasn't good.

"Rafe," Ward's voice cut through the quiet, cold and authoritative. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

Rafe's jaw tightened, but he didn't move from his spot beside Margarita. "Just needed some air," he replied, his tone deliberately neutral.

Ward's gaze flicked to Margarita, and she felt the weight of his scrutiny settle on her like a lead blanket. "And you," he said, his voice low and clipped. "I don't believe we've met."

Margarita swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Margarita," she said simply, her voice steady despite the nerves coiling in her stomach.

Ward didn't offer a hand, nor did he acknowledge her introduction. Instead, he turned his attention back to Rafe, his eyes narrowing. "You know we have things to discuss. Family matters. You can't keep running away from your responsibilities."