𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 ― rafe cameron

εξήνταεπτά ; 67

song of the chapter:
HAPPINESS IS A BUTTERFLY ; lana del rey

She awoke to an unfamiliar silence, the soft beeping of the machines surrounding her like a distant echo. The light filtering through the blinds was muted, casting a gentle glow across the room. For a moment, she felt disoriented, as if she had been caught in a dream from which she couldn't quite escape.

Margarita blinked slowly, her eyelids heavy, trying to piece together the fragments of her memories. She attempted to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over her, and she leaned back against the pillows, her body feeling foreign and weak. As she surveyed the room, a sinking feeling settled in her chest.

The stark white walls felt suffocating, and the sterile smell of antiseptic overwhelmed her senses. She was alone.

"Rafe?" she whispered, her voice barely a breath. There was no response, only the soft hum of the machines monitoring her vitals. Panic began to creep in, the familiar sense of dread tightening its grip around her heart. Had she lost him too?

She forced herself to take deep breaths, each inhale reminding her of the heaviness in her chest. Slowly, the memories started to trickle back—flashes of moments that felt both distant and painfully close. The warmth of his embrace, the way he would look at her with such intensity, the comfort of his laughter that always seemed to chase the shadows away.

"Rafe..." she called again, louder this time, desperation creeping into her tone. The silence stretched, amplifying her anxiety. She tried to sit up again, her hands trembling as they pushed against the mattress. Every muscle felt weak and stiff, but she couldn't allow herself to succumb to fear. She needed to find him.

"Rafe..." she called again, her voice firmer this time. Just as she was about to lose hope, the door creaked open, and he stepped inside.

Margarita's heart raced as their eyes met. He looked different—hollowed, tired, but there was an unmistakable spark of relief as he rushed to her side.

"Margarita!" His voice was a mix of disbelief and joy as he knelt beside her. The warmth of his presence wrapped around her like a lifeline. "You're awake! You're really awake!"

Tears brimmed in his eyes, and she felt a flutter in her chest. She wanted to reach for him, to pull him close, but her body still felt heavy and uncooperative. Instead, she looked into his eyes, searching for answers.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice raw.

He hesitated, swallowing hard. "You... you were gone for a while. I thought... I thought I lost you."

The words hung heavy between them, a reminder of the darkness that had threatened to consume her. She closed her eyes, memories flooding back—the pain, the isolation, the moment she had slipped away into that deep void.

Margarita swallowed, the weight of Rafe's words settling in her chest like a stone. She could see the exhaustion etched on his face, the sleepless nights and worry that must have plagued him while she was unconscious. His fingers hovered near her hand, hesitant, as if afraid she might slip away again.

"I'm still here," she whispered, her voice shaky but resolute. She wanted to reach out, to reassure him, but her limbs felt too heavy, too foreign. Instead, she let her gaze do the work, silently telling him what her words couldn't—she wasn't going anywhere.

Rafe's eyes softened, and he exhaled a breath he seemed to have been holding since the moment he walked in. He leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a beat longer than necessary, as if grounding himself in the reality that she was, in fact, awake.

"I thought I lost you for good," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with emotion.

Margarita closed her eyes, the sensation of his lips against her forehead both comforting and grounding. She felt the fear he carried, the weight of it pressing against them both. "I'm sorry," she managed to say, even though she wasn't sure what she was apologizing for. Maybe for the fear she'd caused, maybe for the time lost, or maybe just for disappearing into a darkness she hadn't known how to escape from.

Rafe pulled back, his hands finally wrapping around hers, holding them firmly but gently, as if he was afraid she might break. "You don't have to be sorry," he said softly, his thumb rubbing slow circles against her skin. "Just... don't leave me again, okay?"

She nodded, though a part of her was unsure how much control she had over what had happened. The void, the darkness—it had been overpowering, dragging her into a place where time and space no longer felt real. But looking into his eyes now, seeing the way he held on to her like she was his anchor, she wanted nothing more than to stay grounded, to stay with him.

"I won't," she promised, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, "You've been out for two months."

Margarita's breath caught in her throat. "Two months?" she repeated, disbelief flooding her. The room seemed to spin for a moment, the enormity of what he had just said sinking in like a heavy weight. Two months gone, just like that, erased in the haze of darkness she barely remembered.

He nodded slowly, his gaze full of the pain he had carried while she was lost to him. "Doctors... they weren't sure if you'd come back. Every day I came here, hoping, but..." His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard. "It was like you were just slipping further away."

Tears welled in Margarita's eyes. Two months. She had been gone for two months, and Rafe had been here, day after day, waiting for her to return to him. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She felt overwhelmed by guilt, though she hadn't chosen to leave, hadn't chosen to disappear into that void.

Rafe shook his head, his grip tightening around her hand. "Don't apologize. None of this was your fault." His voice cracked as he spoke, the vulnerability in his words palpable. "Just having you here now... it's enough."

Margarita couldn't help but feel the enormity of it all—the missed days, the uncertainty, the weight of Rafe's worry that must have consumed him while she was gone. Her chest tightened as she imagined him sitting by her bedside, waiting for something, anything, to tell him she was still with him.

"Two months..." she repeated, still unable to fully comprehend it.

Rafe nodded again, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're back now, though. That's all that matters."

Margarita stared at him, her heart swelling with the sheer intensity of what he had endured for her. She hadn't realized how deeply she had affected him, hadn't known the extent to which he cared. And now, seeing the raw emotion in his eyes, she understood just how much he had been willing to sacrifice to see her through.

She reached out, her fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheek. "I didn't know..." she started, her voice breaking. "I didn't know how much I meant to you."

Rafe caught her hand, holding it tightly against his face. "You mean everything to me, Margarita. Everything."

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she let the weight of his words sink in. For the first time in what felt like forever, she truly believed him. She was back. She had fought her way out of the darkness, and now, with Rafe by her side, she knew she wasn't alone.

"I won't leave you again," she promised, her voice shaky but full of determination. "Not ever."

--- end of chapter