𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 ― rafe cameron

σαράνταδύο ; 42

song of the chapter:
TELEPHONES ; vacations

The morning sunlight crept through the edges of the curtains, casting faint golden lines across the bed. Margarita stirred first, blinking against the soft light, her mind slowly coming into focus. For a moment, she stayed still, feeling the warmth of Rafe's body beside her. His arm was draped lazily over her waist, his fingers loosely tangled with the hem of her shirt, as if he had fallen asleep holding on to her.

She turned her head slightly to look at him. His face was calm, more peaceful than she had ever seen it when he was awake. The usual storm that brewed behind his eyes was absent, replaced by the softness of sleep. Her chest tightened as she took in the quiet vulnerability of him, and the memories of the night before flooded back.

The weight of their unspoken words lingered in the air between them. Rafe had tried to comfort her, to break through the barriers she had built around her heart, but still, they hadn't addressed what they were both avoiding. The tension between them was palpable, charged with everything they hadn't said, everything they were too afraid to admit.

Margarita carefully shifted from under his arm, her body aching as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. The events of the last few days had left her emotionally drained, and now she felt the heaviness of it all settle in her bones. She rubbed her face, trying to dispel the lingering exhaustion.

She glanced back at Rafe, his messy hair falling across his forehead, his lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply. A pang of guilt twisted inside her. She had asked him to stay, but she hadn't allowed him to truly be there for her. He had offered his presence, his comfort, but she hadn't been able to meet him halfway.

As much as she wanted to reach out, to let him in, something always held her back. The fear of what it would mean, the fear of complicating everything they already shared, the fear of losing him completely. She hugged her knees to her chest, her thoughts swirling like a storm in her mind.

She heard him stir behind her, a low groan escaping his lips as he woke up. Rafe's arm reached out for her instinctively, his fingers brushing the empty space where she had been lying. His eyes blinked open slowly, his face still groggy with sleep.

"Margarita?" he murmured, his voice rough from the night. His eyes found hers, and for a moment, there was silence—heavy, loaded silence.

She offered him a small smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Hey," she whispered, her voice soft, the weight of their unresolved feelings hanging in the air like a thread waiting to snap.

Rafe propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes never leaving her. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern, as if he could sense the turmoil brewing inside her.

Margarita hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor as she fiddled with the edge of the sheet. She wanted to tell him everything—that she wasn't okay, that she didn't know how to navigate this thing between them, that she was scared of what it all meant. But the words stuck in her throat.

"I'm fine," she finally said, her voice barely audible. It was a lie, and they both knew it, but it was easier than confronting the truth in that moment.

Rafe's brow furrowed, and he sat up fully now, his hand reaching out to touch her back. His fingers grazed her skin gently, a gesture that was meant to be reassuring, but Margarita felt her heart clench in response. She wanted to lean into his touch, to let him hold her and tell her everything would be okay, but something inside her resisted.

"Margarita," he said, his voice soft but insistent. "We need to talk."

She swallowed hard, the knot in her throat tightening. She knew he was right, that they couldn't keep avoiding the conversation that had been looming over them for days. But even as the words danced on the tip of her tongue, she wasn't sure if she was ready to say them.