𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 ― rafe cameron

ενενήνταένα ; 91

song of the chapter:
LANDSLIDE ; fleetwood mac

Margarita had always held onto hope like it was a lifeline. Even when things got messy, when life twisted in ways she couldn't predict, hope had been her constant companion. She had clung to it, woven it into her heart, convincing herself that if she believed in someone enough, if she loved them enough, they could change. Rafe had made promises, and for a while, she believed he would keep them.

But standing in the doorway of the country club, Margarita felt that hope shatter like glass beneath her feet.

The scene unfolded before her like a slow-motion car crash—one she couldn't tear her eyes away from. There he was, Rafe Cameron, the boy who had whispered promises into her ear, the one who had held her when she cried, who had kissed her in the rain like it was a moment straight out of a dream. And yet, now, his arm was draped around someone else, effortlessly, carelessly.

It wasn't her standing by his side. It was the bartender.

Margarita's breath caught in her throat as she watched them. Rafe leaned in, his lips brushing the bartender's temple with the same tenderness he had once shown her. His arm was securely wrapped around the other girl's waist, pulling her close in that familiar, protective way Margarita knew all too well. And it wasn't just the touch that cut deep—it was the way he looked at her. There was a softness in his gaze, a warmth that made Margarita's stomach churn.

His eyes, the ones she had longed to meet in this moment, never even glanced her way. It was as if she wasn't there, as if she had become invisible the second he stepped into the country club and saw someone else to pull into his orbit.

False hope. It was the cruelest kind, the kind that lured you in with sweet words and fleeting moments of sincerity, only to tear you apart when you least expected it. She had hoped Rafe would change, had convinced herself that he would because she wanted it so badly. But deep down, hadn't she always known? Hadn't there always been a voice in the back of her mind telling her that Rafe Cameron was who he was, and no amount of love could rewrite that?

She stood frozen in place, her mind racing to catch up with her heart. Her chest felt tight, suffocated by the weight of realization. All those nights spent believing that he would prove everyone wrong, that he would show the Pogues—and her—that he could be better. It had all been built on nothing more than a fragile dream.

The laughter from across the room felt like a mockery of her silent heartbreak. Rafe smiled at the bartender, his fingers brushing against her cheek in a gesture that used to belong to Margarita. She could almost hear the echo of his voice in her ear, telling her she was different, telling her he wanted to be better for her. But now, those words felt hollow, empty.

Margarita's fingers curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She wasn't angry—not at Rafe, not even at the bartender. The anger, the frustration, it was all aimed inward. She had let herself believe in him, knowing full well that this was the likely outcome. She had given him a piece of her heart, trusting him to take care of it, and instead, he had tossed it aside without a second thought.

She had seen the red flags. She had known. But she had ignored them because, for a moment, she had wanted to believe that love was enough. That her love was enough to change him.

Her feet felt heavy as she slowly backed away from the doorway, retreating before anyone noticed her. The sting of betrayal burned in her chest, but deeper than that was the ache of disappointment. She had wanted so badly to be wrong about him. She had wanted him to prove her fears unfounded. But now, standing on the outside looking in, she couldn't ignore the truth any longer.

Rafe wasn't going to change. Not for her, not for anyone. And maybe that was the hardest part—accepting that she couldn't save him, that she couldn't fix what was broken inside of him.

As she turned to leave, her heart heavy with the weight of false hope, Margarita promised herself one thing: she would stop waiting for someone who wasn't coming. No more excuses, no more pretending. Rafe would never be the person she wanted him to be, and it was time she stopped trying to convince herself otherwise.

The door to the country club closed behind her with a soft click, but the sound felt final, like a chapter in her life being shut for good. She had fallen for the illusion of Rafe, for the boy who had promised change, but now, she had to face the reality.

Margarita wiped the tear that had slipped down her cheek, straightened her shoulders, and walked away. She didn't know where she was headed, but wherever it was, it would be without him.

--- end of chapter