LITTLE SECRET | RAFE CAMERON

85: 𝘏𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦

After Alice had left Rafe that night - tired and worn out, needing to be alone for a while - she had actually managed to get a few hours of sleep.

Perhaps it was because it had felt good to cry. To let the pain of everything out while she was in his arms, even if it was on the cold hospital bed.

Or maybe it was because she was just so exhausted, both mentally and physically, that her body had no other choice but to surrender to sleep.

But when she woke up the next morning, a knot of guilt twisted in her stomach, and the thought of going to the hospital - of seeing him again - was too much.

She couldn't do it.

The images in her head were still too vivid. Still too raw. And they haunted her, lingering like shadows.

She didn't need to add to them. Not yet.

And slowly the days passed. Ian visited Rafe. Sarah visited him. Jada, Kelce, even his family.

Everyone came to see Rafe, but Alice stayed away.

Every time, she was offered to join, to go with them, but each time, she shook her head and stayed in her room.

And yet, as much as she stayed away, her heart ached for him. She heard stories of how he was slowly coming back to himself, how day by day, his old spark seemed to return. But those same stories only seemed to remind her of the man she loved, and how much of him had been lost in the wake of what had happened.

In the time she stayed away, Alice slowly found her footing again.

The days weren't as dark anymore. She managed to get out of bed. She went for walks, even started eating again. She cried less.

But the truth was - no matter how hard she tried to move on, to find peace - there was a part of her that felt broken.

A part of her that didn't know how to piece itself back together without Rafe.

Alice knew, without a doubt, that she still loved him. But the truth was, her love for him had grown in ways she hadn't anticipated. She loved him with a fierceness that sometimes felt like it was drowning her, but at the same time, there was a distance - a space between them - something that hadn't been there before.

And that space felt like an ocean.

That's why it took her days. Days of doubt and fear, before she finally gathered the strength to go back to the hospital.

Alone. With a small box in her hand.

As Alice walked down the familiar hallway, the sterile white walls seemed less oppressive, less suffocating. The hospital had always felt like a labyrinth of loneliness, but today, the fading evening sunlight that streamed through the windows made everything feel less cold. The nurses who passed her smiled, offering her a brief sense of warmth, and for a fleeting moment, Alice could breathe. She could feel something close to peace, though she knew it wouldn't last.

Her steps slowed as she approached the door to his room. It stood there in front of her, closed, silent. No voices, no sounds.

She knocked softly, the sound echoing in the stillness. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds...

Her hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob. When she pushed the door open, she found Rafe standing by the window, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers.

He turned in surprise, the smoke from the cigarette curling lazily into the air, his eyes locking with hers.

His expression unreadable.