The drive back to the Montgomery mansion is silent, too silent. The only sound in the car is the faint hum of the engine and the soft tapping of the rain against the windshield.
I feel the weight of the moment pressing on me, but I don't know what to say. Rafael's face is hard, his jaw clenched, and the muscles in his arms tense as his grip tightens on the steering wheel.
I want to say something, but what's there left to say? The reality of what happened in the café is still sinking in. I know I messed up, but I can't shake the feeling that everything is spinning out of my control.
When we finally reached the mansion, Rafael doesn't say anything. He parks the car, shuts off the engine, and steps out, leaving me to follow behind him in silence.
I hesitate at the door for a moment, gathering myself before I step inside. It feels like everything has changed between us, and I'm not sure if it's because of what happened with James or because of everything I've been holding inside.
Rafael walks ahead of me, his steps strong and purposeful. I'm still reeling from the confrontation with James, from the way Rafael defended me, and yet, I can't bring myself to thank him.
He didn't have to do that. He could've let James get away with it, but instead, he put his foot down.
"I'm sorry," I said his back facing me.
"Sorry?" His words are sharp, cutting through the stillness of the house.
I stop, frozen.
He turns to face me, his face angry, his eyes burning with frustration. "You really don't get it, do you? You get into these relationships with guys who don't give a damn about you, and then you play with their feelings like it's a game. And now—now—look where you are! If I wasn't there, James would've—" He pauses, his voice thick with emotion, "You would've been beaten up by now!"
I open my mouth to defend myself, but the words won't come out. My throat tightens, and I lower my gaze, feeling ashamed for what just happened. I never thought about what my actions would cause. I never thought about the consequences, about the pain I might bring.
Rafael's breath hitches in frustration. He's still standing there, staring at me, his anger simmering beneath the surface. But then, as if a switch flips, he softens just a little. He steps closer and reaches for my chin, gently tilting my face up to meet his eyes.
I don't know what to expect, but it isn't this. His expression softens, just slightly, but the disappointment is still there, written all over his face.
I can't stop the tears from falling, even though I want to. I'm embarrassed, and I hate the way I feel, so vulnerable.
I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself, and ask, my voice barely above a whisper, "I thought you didn't have enough money… You brought me to that cheap clothing brand, saying you couldn't afford designer stuff…"
Rafael looks at me for a long moment, and I see something in his eyes, frustration.
"Are you serious?" he says, his voice sharp. "That's your concern right now? The clothes? The designer bags?"
His words hit me harder than I expected. I know I've been selfish, but I didn't realize how much it would affect him. I just wanted him to understand, to see why I acted the way I did. But instead, it seems like everything I've said and done has only made things worse.
Rafael lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm so done with your whims."
He shakes his head, taking a step back from me. "You've got all these problems, but instead of dealing with them like a responsible adult, you keep running away. I'm done trying to fix for you."
I can feel the sting of his words, but I don't say anything. I just stand there, lost in his gaze, my emotions a mess of guilt and anger.
Before I can respond, Rafael turns around, walking toward the staircase. But then he stops, his voice low and firm as he looks over his shoulder.
"That money I gave you to pay James... I earned it through working, Amanda. Now, my bank account is almost zero."
I freeze, the weight of his words sinking in. I never thought about how much he's sacrificed for me. I never considered how hard he's had to work for the little things he has.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, the guilt crashing over me in waves.
He doesn't look at me, just keeps walking. "You'll have to find another way to deal with your problems from now on."
Later, as I prepare for school the next day, I can't stop thinking about what Rafael said.
I'm in my room, staring at my closet, trying to figure out what to wear. The tension between us still lingers in the air, and it's hard to shake. I'm frustrated with myself, with the way I've been acting. I should've never let things get this far.
I pull out an outfit, only to discard it. It's just school supplies. Why am I stressing over it like it's some big event? I start to argue with myself, muttering under my breath as I try on one shirt after another.
"It's just school, Amanda. It's just school. Stop acting like it's a party."
But even as I say that, I can feel the anxiety bubbling up inside me. It's not just about the school supplies. It's about everything—about feeling small for once, about facing the reality of my situation.
The sound of the door opening pulls me out of my thoughts. It's Rafael. He's standing there, looking at me expectantly.
"Get ready," he says, his voice calmer than it was before. "We're going to buy everything you need for school. My parents sent me the money for your bills. Let's go."
I nod, trying to muster up some semblance of energy. As I walk past him, I was half-hoping he'll say something to make me feel better. But instead, he just stays quiet.