𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 ― rafe cameron

εξήνταοκτώ ; 68

song of the chapter:
LOVE IN THE DARK ; adele

It had been a week since Margarita had woken up. Now, she lay in her bed at home, the familiar softness of the sheets surrounding her. The world outside seemed distant, but here, she was cocooned in the warmth of her family's presence. Her mother sat in the chair by her bedside, flipping through a magazine but glancing up every few moments to check on her daughter. Her father stood by the window, arms crossed, staring out as if he could still protect her from everything outside.

Her brother, Hermés, sat at the foot of her bed, scrolling through his phone but staying close, making sure she knew he was there. The atmosphere was quiet but heavy with unspoken emotions. They were all relieved to have her back, but there was an underlying tension—like they were afraid she might slip away again.

Margarita shifted slightly, the weight of their attention almost suffocating. She loved them, she did, but being surrounded like this, watched so closely, made her feel fragile, like she was still the girl in the hospital bed.

"I'm okay, you know," she said, her voice soft but trying to sound reassuring.

Her mother looked up, a small smile touching her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "We know, honey. We just want to be sure."

Hermés glanced up from his phone. "Yeah, well, you gave us a pretty big scare."

"I didn't exactly plan it," she muttered, picking at the corner of the blanket draped over her legs. She could feel their worry in every glance, in every quiet word exchanged when they thought she wasn't listening.

Her father, always the stoic one, finally turned from the window. "We're just glad you're home. That's all that matters now."

Margarita nodded, but the weight of their concern still pressed down on her. Being home should have felt like a relief, but it was hard to shake the feeling that she wasn't fully present—that some part of her was still stuck in that in-between place, disconnected.

"I need some air," she announced suddenly, pulling herself up to sit against the headboard. The effort took more energy than she expected, but she forced herself to act as normal as possible.

Her mother stood immediately. "Are you sure? Do you need help?"

"No, I'm fine," Margarita insisted, pushing the blanket off and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I just need a minute to myself."

Her family exchanged glances but didn't argue. Hermés stood, offering her a hand, but she waved him off with a small smile. "I've got this."

Slowly, she made her way to the balcony, opening it to let the cool breeze in. The fresh air felt like a small freedom, a reminder that she was alive, that she was here. But as she stared out at the familiar OBX landscape, a part of her couldn't help but wonder if she would ever truly feel like herself again.

A slow, familiar knock on the balcony door pulled Margarita out of her trance. She turned her head, heart skipping slightly as she recognized the rhythm. Only one person knocked like that.

Rafe.

She hesitated for a moment before moving to the door, the cool breeze from the open window brushing against her skin. Her hand trembled slightly as she gripped the handle, pulling it open to reveal him standing there, looking like he had been through as much as she had. His hair was damp from the misty evening air, and his eyes were filled with a mix of relief and uncertainty.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile peace between them.

Margarita's chest tightened at the sight of him. She hadn't seen him much since she got back home, and now that he was here, standing on her balcony like old times, it stirred something deep inside her—something she wasn't sure she was ready to face.

"Hey," she replied, stepping back to let him inside.

Rafe took a tentative step in, his eyes scanning her face, searching for any signs that she wasn't okay. "I've been meaning to come by sooner, but... I didn't know if you wanted to see me."

Margarita shrugged, trying to keep her voice even. "I'm here now, right?"

He nodded, but the look on his face said more than words ever could. He was still scared—scared of losing her again, scared of what came next.

"You look better," he said after a long pause, his eyes drifting to the open window, then back to her. "Are you feeling better?"

Margarita crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. "Physically, yeah. Mentally... still catching up."

Rafe nodded, understanding. "I missed you. A lot."

His words hung in the air, and Margarita felt the familiar ache in her chest, the one that always seemed to surface when he was near. She wanted to say something back, to tell him how much she had missed him too, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she gave him a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I thought I lost you," Rafe admitted, stepping closer, his voice raw. "I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life."

Margarita swallowed hard, her eyes locking with his. "I thought I lost myself for a while too."

Rafe's expression softened, and before she could pull away, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. She stood there, frozen for a moment, before she slowly relaxed into his embrace, resting her head against his chest. His familiar scent, mixed with the fresh air from outside, was comforting in a way she hadn't expected.

"You don't have to do this alone," he whispered into her hair, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it. "I'm here."

For the first time in a long while, Margarita allowed herself to believe him.

--- end of chapter