7:00 AM.
I wake up in the unfamiliar quiet of the Montgomery mansion. The room is spacious, the curtains drawn just enough to let the soft morning light filter in. No sounds of bustling staff, no distant chatter. Just the stillness that fills the house when it's still early.
I don't know what wakes me up, maybe it's the uncomfortable feeling of being watched, or maybe it's just the fact that I can't relax.
Every corner of this house reminds me of how out of place I am. Back at my family's mansion, it was different. Everything was catered to me. But here… it's just cold and empty.
I stretch and push myself out of bed, taking a deep breath. I'm supposed to be getting used to this new life. But I hate it.
I pull myself together and head downstairs, hoping to at least get some breakfast. I don't want to see anyone, especially Rafael, after what happened last night. But of course, Rafael's already sitting at the dining table. His parents are there too, chatting over coffee.
I hesitate at the top of the stairs, considering turning back and going straight back to my room, but I know it's pointless. They'd probably come looking for me if I did.
So, I slowly make my way down, trying to ignore the glaring tension hanging between me and Rafael.
His parents are much more welcoming. Rafael's mother smiles warmly when she sees me.
"Good morning, Amanda. Please, sit with us." She gestures to the seat beside Rafael.
I sit down, trying to act like everything's fine. But it's not. It never is.
Rafael doesn't say anything. He's too busy eating his breakfast, his focus entirely on the food. His parents chat about their business trips, their plans for the week, their usual exhausting schedule.
I try to tune them out, but I can't. I hear it all, especially when Rafael's mom mentions something about his schedule.
"You know, Rafael leaves for work at 8 AM every day." She says it casually, like it's a normal thing. "His father and I are often out of the country for business, so Rafael tends to handle things around here. And by next week, you will both be going back to school."
I glance at Rafael, who's still eating, but the mention of his schedule catches my attention. No one's home. It's like he's alone, just like me. But for some reason, it feels different for him. He's used to it.
And then she adds, "We're going to attend a garden dinner later at 6 PM. Your parents will be there too, Amanda. It'll be nice to see everyone together. Make sure you're ready by then."
The weight of her words sinks in. Dinner. Another event. Another night where I'll be expected to play the part of the perfect daughter, the perfect guest.
I can feel my frustration starting to build up again. I hate this, I hate not having control, not being able to do what I want. I hate the constant reminders that my life is no longer mine.
Once breakfast is over, Rafael's parents leave for their work. They don't even spare a second glance my way before heading out, leaving the house feeling even emptier. There's a strange silence in the air, and I almost can't breathe in it.
I quickly head upstairs to my room, my mind racing with thoughts of the garden dinner. I need something to wear. I have dozens of dresses, but nothing feels right.
I pull open the closet, staring at the rows of designer dresses, expensive shoes, and luxury bags. Nothing is good enough for this dinner. I want something that'll make me look good, but nothing feels like it's enough.
I toss a dress on the bed, then another. Nothing works. I feel the panic building up again. I start to shout in frustration.
"What the hell am I going to wear?!" I scream at the clothes that seem to mock me.
I hear a knock on the door. Rafael.
I open it, still fuming. He raises an eyebrow as he sees me standing in the middle of the room, clothes scattered everywhere.
"What's going on in here?" he asks in his usual detached tone, crossing his arms.
"I don't have anything to wear." I snap, rolling my eyes. "Nothing fits. Nothing is good enough for this dinner."
He steps inside and looks around, his gaze flicking from the mess on the bed to my fuming face. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just watches me in silence.
"You're upset over what to wear?" he asks, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
I can't take it anymore. "Yes, Rafael, I'm upset!" I shout back, throwing my hands up in frustration. "I don't have any clothes that work. I need something that will actually look good."
He sighs, stepping closer. "Why don't you just wear something simple? You don't need to complicate everything."
I scoff. "Simple? Seriously? I can't just wear anything, Rafael. I need something that stands out."
He looks at me like I'm speaking a different language. "You'll have to adjust." He shrugs, clearly done with the conversation. "I don't have time for this."
I can feel the tension rising, and suddenly, I do something that surprises even me. I reach out, grab his wrist, and pull him back. He freezes, looking at me like I've completely lost my mind.
"Take me shopping." I'm almost pleading now. "Please. I need to buy something new."
Rafael looks at me, his expression unreadable. "You went shopping yesterday— with your boyfriend. You bought more than enough. Why do you need more?"
I try to look charming, flashing a smile. "It's not enough, Rafael. Please?" I bat my lashes, trying to be cute, but his expression doesn't change.
"I don't have time for this. I'm already late for work." His voice is calm, but I can hear the edge to it.
I was getting frustrated but before I could have another breakdown, Rafael said something that surprised me.
"Fine. Let's go. But don't change." He said when he almost stepped outside my room.
My face lights up at the thought of him agreeing. "Really? You'll take me?"
He rolls his eyes and heads for the door. "Don't change, Amanda. I'm late for work."
I quickly grab my cap and throw on a cardigan, just enough so I won't be recognized, and follow him out. He drives me to a mall that isn't exactly the type of place I'm used to.
As we pull up, I can't help but feel a bit of disbelief. This isn't the mall I had in mind. This place doesn't have the luxury brands I'm used to. But I bite my tongue and follow him inside.
"What is this?" I ask, my voice tinged with disbelief. "This isn't where I shop, Rafael."
He shrugs. "Pick something that works. I can't afford anything more than this."
I pick out a simple outfit, one that'll work for the dinner later, but I can't help but feel disappointed. I wanted more, but I'll just have to settle.
After spending about two hours picking out something that doesn't satisfy me completely, we head back to the mansion.
Rafael is already running late, but he doesn't say anything. He just drives, quiet and focused, while I sit there, fuming at the entire situation.
By the time I get home, I rush to my room to get ready. It's 3:00 PM, and the garden dinner is still hours away. I take my time curling my hair, trying to look presentable.
At 4:00 PM, Rafael comes back home. He doesn't even check in on me, but after a while, he steps into my room, his eyes scanning the space. As I'm curling my hair, I accidentally burn my hand with the curling iron.
"Ow!" I wince, the heat shooting through my fingers.
Rafael jumps into action, immediately taking my hand and calling for help. His voice is calm but there's something almost tender in his eyes. He fetches the first-aid kit and starts treating my burn, his focus completely on me.
As he finishes treating the burn, he pulls away, wiping his hands on a nearby towel. I can't help but notice how careful he is, how his expression softens when he looks at me. But it's fleeting.
"You're all set," he says, his voice still calm but there's a subtle sharpness to it. He doesn't look at me for too long, as if the moment's over.
I stare at him, feeling the aftershock of what just happened. Something in the way he treated my burn makes me feel… vulnerable.
That never happens. I don't let anyone see me like this, weak, fragile, but with Rafael, there's something different. I swallow, trying to shake off the feeling.
But Rafael doesn't seem to notice my internal turmoil. He stands up, his broad shoulders towering over me as he takes a step back.
"You should finished getting ready. Dinner's in a few hours." His tone is final, like he's already moved on.
I want to say something, but the words stick in my throat. Why am I still thinking about him? He's just a guy. A guy who's supposed to be watching over me, making sure I don't cause trouble.
That's all he is, right?