The drive back to the mansion feels suffocating. The silence between us is so heavy that it almost suffocates me. It's unbearable.
I glance at Rafael occasionally, hoping he'll say something, anything. But no. He's as silent as the night, focused entirely on the road.
His jaw is tight, and his eyes are fixed ahead, but I can feel the tension radiating from him, like he's holding something back, something he's not ready to share.
I try to concentrate on the passing scenery, on the familiar streets, but I can't focus. My mind keeps drifting back to what happened earlier, the awkwardness in the parking lot, the way his face hardened when he saw me.
I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong. But what?
As we pull into the driveway of the mansion, I feel a knot in my stomach. The house looks almost too quiet.
I get out of the car first, not waiting for Rafael. I need some space, some time to figure out what's going on. But he follows me, footsteps heavy behind me.
We reach the door, and I can't hold it in any longer.
"Rafael, what's wrong with you?" I turn to face him, frustration bubbling up inside me.
"You've barely said a word to me the whole drive. I'm trying to figure out what's going on between us, and you're acting like I'm invisible!"
He stops walking and looks at me for a moment. His eyes flicker, and for a split second, I think he might say something, something that'll make everything clear.
But then he just shakes his head, his lips curling into a hard line.
"Broke up with that guy." His voice is colder than I expected. "Stop playing around. Stop your games. If you continue this childish act, I will never answer your whims again. You'll be on your own. You'll deal with your limited budget. Stop being so immature, Amanda."
The words hit me like a punch to the chest. I open my mouth to respond, but my throat tightens.
I feel the sting of betrayal, even though I know it's not like he's been anything more than an acquaintance.
I never expected him to say those.
Without another word, I turn on my heel and run up the stairs. I don't want to hear any more of this. I don't want to deal with whatever mess we've gotten ourselves into. I lock myself in my room, my heart pounding in my chest.
I collapse onto the bed, burying my face into the pillow, feeling the weight of his words crushing me. The sting of his rejection echoes in my mind, over and over again.
I want to shout. I want to scream. But there's no point.
I'm stupid, I think. So stupid. Why do I care so much about what he thinks? Why does it hurt so much?
Three hours pass in a blur. I can't bring myself to do anything except lie there, staring at the ceiling, replaying the conversation in my head.
I hear footsteps outside my door, but I don't care. I don't want to see him. I don't want him to apologize or try to explain. It's too late for that now.
But then the knock comes.
"Amanda, dinner's ready."
I don't move. I don't respond. I just stay curled up under the covers, hoping he'll leave me alone.
Another knock, more forceful this time.
"Amanda, open the door." His voice is stern, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
I try to ignore it, try to block him out.
But I can hear the frustration in his tone, and for a second, I almost want to open the door and scream at him.
Instead, I bury my head deeper into the pillow, clutching the blanket tightly around me, trying to shut out the world.
"Amanda, open the door now." His voice is more commanding this time, and I feel the weight of it in my chest.
I snap.
"Leave me alone, Rafael!" I shout, my voice raw with emotion. "I don't want to hear it anymore!"
There's a long silence on the other side of the door, and for a moment, I think he's gone, that maybe he's finally giving up. But then, the door opens. I look up just as Rafael steps inside.
His gaze is hard, but there's something else in it, something softer, more regretful. He doesn't say anything at first.
He just walks over to the bed and sits down next to me, the bed creaking under his weight.
I can't look at him. I want to scream at him, to yell at him for being so cold, but instead, I stay silent, my body wrapped tightly in the blanket.
He sighs, leaning closer. "I'm sorry, Amanda." His voice is low, almost like he's ashamed. "Dinner's ready. I just... I didn't mean to hurt you."
I don't know how to respond. I want to tell him that he hurt me, but instead, I just lie there, feeling the ache in my chest. The silence is too heavy.
I feel the bed shift as he stands, his hand resting briefly on my shoulder before he pulls away.
"Okay." He sounds tired, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll leave you alone. Just... eat something. You need to eat."
I don't answer. I don't move. He turns and walks out, leaving me alone in the stillness of my room, feeling like everything between us is unraveling.
I curl up under the blanket, my mind racing. I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to make things right with him.
What am I supposed to do? How can I fix what's already broken? And why does it feel like the walls are closing in on me, like I can't breathe?