The clock read a little past six in the evening when I heard the gate slam shut.Rafael had just gotten back from the university.
I stood there for a moment, holding my phone like it could give me courage. I wanted to go over there just to thank him again, ask how his day had been — any excuse would do, as long as it let me hear his voice.
I walked downstairs slowly, trying to look casual. The landlord wasn't on the porch, which made me feel a little more at ease. But as soon as I took a few more steps and saw Rafael putting his backpack away in the living room, I realized there was nothing casual about what I was doing.
He lifted his head and saw me… the look was quick, impersonal.For a moment, I felt like I was nothing but an inconvenient visitor in his house.
— Oh… you're already back — I said, trying to sound natural, even though my voice cracked halfway through. — How was class?
— Same as always — he answered, not looking at me, his tone dry and distant.
— I thought we could watch a movie. — I swallowed hard. — Nothing big, just… something light, to celebrate my recovery.
He stopped rummaging through his backpack.
— I can't — he said, without lifting his eyes. — I've got things to do.
— Sure… — I murmured, the smile dying on my face. — I thought…
— Thought what, Helena? — His voice came sharper, almost harsh. — That we were going to sit around watching movies?
The air seemed to vanish from the room. Even the sound of my own breathing annoyed me.
— I just wanted… — I began, but he cut me off again.
— You need to stop assuming everything has some hidden meaning. — He crossed his arms and finally looked at me. His gaze was hard, controlled to the point of cruelty. — I helped you because you needed help… that's it.
It was like being punched.The words, so precise and intentional, hurt more than any shout.
I stood there, frozen, feeling the ground slip under me.
— I understand — I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He looked away, like he couldn't handle what he was seeing, but he didn't take anything back… didn't soften… didn't try.
I stayed there in the middle of the room, my heart tight in my chest. It was the same tone he used before the fall — or maybe even worse.
And I couldn't just accept it in silence.
— Why do you do this? — I asked, not even thinking about whether the landlord was home.
He frowned.
— Do what?
— Pretend nothing happened. — I crossed my arms. — You spent days following me around everywhere I went, taking care of everything like I was made of glass… and now you can barely look at me.
Rafael took a long breath, looking away.
— Helena, I just… I think it's better this way.
— Better for who? — I shot back. — Because for me, it's not.
We stayed silent for a while. He didn't move. I didn't either. For a second, I thought he would finally say something, and when he did, it came out low, contained.
— How many times do I have to tell you I don't want to hurt you?
The sentence was simple, but it hit me so hard I took a step back, breathing through the pain.
— Too late for that.
He frowned, confused, but I didn't give him time to react.
— You already hurt me, Rafael. — My voice broke, but I didn't stop. — You hurt me when you showed me how happy I could be… and the next day you took everything away.
His gaze faltered, but I kept going.
— And the worst part is that you do this all the time. You stay close enough to make me believe you care, and then you shut down again.
Rafael lowered his eyes, his jaw tight. I saw the guilt in his posture, but it wasn't enough to silence me anymore.
— You say you don't want to hurt me, but every time you act like I'm a stranger, you do exactly that. — Tears were already streaming, hot and uncontrollable. — So tell me, Rafael… what could you possibly do to me that would hurt more than what you're already doing now?
His silence was my answer.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the pain was too big to hold in.
— It's fine if you think what happened at the lookout was a mistake. — I murmured, my voice small. — If you regret it… but I just wanted to understand if this is really how it is. If not even as a friend you can let me stay.
He didn't lift his head.He stared at the floor, hands in his pockets, his whole body tense like he was carrying something he didn't know how to drop.
Before he could look at me, I turned around and walked out.The gate creaked loud when I closed it behind me.
I went down the street with no direction, the cold wind hitting my face and mixing with my tears.
When I realized it, I was already at the square — the same one as always: worn benches, tall trees, the same swing that squeaked in the wind.
I sat on the wooden bench.My eyes burned, but I didn't want to wipe the tears away.Didn't want to ease anything.Just wanted to sit there, quiet, until the world stopped spinning.
The streetlights began turning on one by one, and the noise of the city faded.
I leaned back, too tired to think. I just wanted to disappear, and before I noticed, my body gave in.
I fell asleep…
When I opened my eyes, the sky was dark and the cold sharper. It took me a few seconds to understand where I was.
And then I saw it:
A black jacket covering my shoulders.Heavy.Familiar.
My heart lurched — I would recognize that jacket anywhere.
Rafael.
I pulled it off me fast and dropped it on the ground.
I stood up trembling and started walking.The streets were nearly empty — only a distant dog barking and the rustle of leaves keeping me company.
The only thing I could think was that going back home felt like punishment, but staying there was worse.
When I arrived, the studio was dark and silent.I closed the door and let myself fall onto the bed without even turning on the light.
The mattress sank under my weight.I just lay there, staring at the ceiling.My chest hurt — maybe this was what hitting rock bottom felt like.
I knew I couldn't stay like this, that something in me needed to fight back… but the truth was, I didn't know how anymore.
"I don't want to hurt you."
His voice echoed in my head.
But what if that sentence was just a pretty excuse to hide the real reason?
What if the problem was never hurting me —but wanting me?
I closed my eyes, letting exhaustion win.