𝔅𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔦𝔢 - Rafe Cameron

①⑧

...

Drenched from head to toe, Jazmine made her way home, her heart heavy with the weight of her emotions. The chill of the night air cut through her, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil roiling inside her.

As she climbed the stairs to her room, she noticed Rafe's car wasn't in the driveway. It was a small relief amidst the chaos, a fleeting moment of solitude that she desperately needed.

After quickly showering to wash away the remnants of the night—both the water and the memories—Jazmine stepped out onto the terrace, hoping to breathe in the cool air and gather her scattered thoughts.

But just then, Rafe burst into her room, his face a mask of concern. "Where have you been?" he demanded, urgency in his voice. His eyes scanned her, searching for any signs of distress.

He wanted to ask who had been with her, but the moment his gaze locked onto hers, he saw the shadows lurking beneath her surface, and instead, he sat beside her.

Jazmine leaned her head against his shoulder, seeking comfort in the warmth of his presence. The contact felt grounding, yet so foreign to her.

Rafe's fingers moved through her hair, a gentle caress that sent shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to indulge in this rare intimacy, feeling both comforted and vulnerable.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, an unspoken promise that he would be there for her. Her breathing had become steady and soft, and her eyes were closed.

He lifted her effortlessly into his arms, cradling her as he settled her into bed. The world outside faded away as he wrapped the blankets around her, cocooning her in warmth and security.He sat next to her on the bed.

With a delicate touch, he traced the contours of her face—her cheekbones, the bridge of her nose, and finally her lips, lingering as if memorizing every detail. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We don't have to," he added, watching her carefully, as if afraid that speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment.

"Just tell me when you want me to leave, and I will, okay?" His sincerity hung in the air between them, an anchor amidst her swirling thoughts.

"I would never ask you to leave," Jazmine replied, her voice a soft murmur, laced with a vulnerability she rarely showed.

"Then I'm not going anywhere," Rafe declared, his tone firm, reassuring her that she wouldn't have to face this darkness alone.

As she nestled against him, a sense of calm washed over her—a feeling she hadn't experienced in far too long. It was a revelation, the realization of where her true home lay. It was with him, in this shared moment of quiet solace.

A part of her wondered whether, had she chosen differently—if she had simply stopped walking into the night—would Rafe have felt a pang of sadness? Would their home have once again echoed with silence, leaving him to face the suffocating solitude he despised?

Both of them had traversed their lives in isolation, yet so differently. Jazmine had always felt an emptiness, a gaping hole in her heart, she was always alone. Rafe, meanwhile, had been encircled by family, but felt profoundly disconnected.

They were two sides of the same coin—so different yet achingly similar, having constructed together what each so desperately sought: a sanctuary, a refuge.

A home.

A home that beckons you to rise with the dawn and calls you back late into the night. A place filled with laughter, arguments, tears, but most importantly, life itself—a chaotic blend of emotions where love and resentment coexisted.