Bound By Lies - Rafe Cameron

Chapter 63

Rafe's POV

It's been a week since the trial, since Teresa agreed to give me another chance—seven days, to be exact, but it feels like a lifetime. Time moves differently now, dragging on and on, every second a reminder of how much I've fucked things up. How much I've lost, even when she's still right here beside me.

She's here. She's still here. But it's not the same.

She's been distant, pulling back in subtle ways that drive me fucking crazy. The way she avoids eye contact when I speak to her. The way her laughter doesn't come as easily anymore. The way she hesitates before touching me, like there's an invisible barrier between us, one that I can't break through no matter how hard I try.

And I hate it. I hate it.

I thought having her here—knowing she's still mine—would be enough. But it's not. It's like I'm holding on to a ghost of what we used to have, and the real Teresa is just out of reach. Close enough to touch, but slipping through my fingers like sand.

She's still kind to me. She still says she loves me. But there's something cold, something detached about the way she speaks, like she's holding a part of herself back. And I don't know how to fix it. I don't know what to do to make her look at me the way she used to, to make her eyes light up the way they did before I ruined everything.

I'm losing her. Even though she's right here in front of me, I'm losing her.

And the worst part? I can't do anything about it. Because I already promised to give her space. To give her time to heal, to process, to forgive.

But she hasn't forgiven me. Not really.

I can see it in the way she tenses when I reach for her hand, in the way her smile falters when I tell her I love her. She's trying—I know she's trying—but there's a part of her that's still locked away. A part of her that's still holding on to the anger, the betrayal.

I let out a harsh breath, running a hand through my hair as I pace the length of my room, my thoughts spiraling, tangled up in the mess I've made. What am I supposed to do? What else can I say?

I've begged. I've apologized. I've promised to change, to be better. And she said she'd give me another chance. She did give me another chance.

But I don't think it's real. Not really. I think she's just keeping me at arm's length, giving me just enough to keep me from losing my mind but not enough to actually forgive me. Not enough to actually be with me.

It's like she's building a wall between us, brick by brick, and I'm standing here on the other side, watching her slip further and further away.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, my chest tightening painfully. I stop pacing, leaning against the edge of the bed, staring down at the floor, my thoughts churning. What if she never forgives me?

But I can't force her to let me in. I can't beg for her forgiveness again, because she said... she said she already gave me a chance.

What if she's only giving me this chance so I can't beg for forgiveness anymore? So she doesn't have to watch me fall apart, so she doesn't have to hear me say how sorry I am over and over again?

What if this is just a way to keep me quiet? To keep me from making a scene?

The thought twists like a knife in my gut, and I let out a harsh breath, pushing away from the railing and turning to head back inside. I can't keep doing this—standing out here, spiraling, wondering what she's thinking. I need to talk to her. I need to know what's going on in her head, what she's feeling.