The car ride is quiet, but my mind is racing. I try to push back the nagging thoughts that keep circling in my head, thoughts about Rafael, about James, about everything I'm trying to keep together.
But no matter how hard I try, it feels like I'm walking on a tightrope, teetering between the pressure of my family's expectations and the pull of my own desires.
We arrive at Harrington Memorial Hospital, the familiar scent of disinfectant immediately filling my nose. The sleek modern building stands tall, a symbol of my family's legacy.
I've grown up here, surrounded by medical equipment, patient care, and the ever-present hum of nurses rushing down the hallways. But today, something feels different.
Rafael parks the car, and we step out in silence. He follows me as I make my way to the hospital entrance, my heart pounding. I'm already dreading what's to come, the questions, the expectations.
My parents have always been careful to show love, but there's always been this silent pressure to live up to a certain standard. To not disappoint.
We step into the elevator, and I'm grateful that it's just the two of us for now. But as the doors close, I can feel the weight of his gaze on me.
"Are you sure you're okay with this?" he asks softly, breaking the silence.
I look at him, unsure how to explain. "I'm fine. Just... you know how they are. They worry too much."
Rafael doesn't say anything else, but I can tell he's thinking about it. I shift uneasily, feeling like he's trying to figure me out, and I can't help but feel exposed.
When we reach the top floor, I lead Rafael through the halls toward my parents' office.
As we approach the door, I hear my mother's voice, and it's instantly soothing. Her laughter, light and warm, breaks the tension in my chest for just a moment.
"Come in!" she calls, almost as if she's been expecting us.
I open the door, and immediately, my mother and father look up, smiling brightly.
"Amanda! Rafael! So good to see you!" My mother, Dr. Evelyn Harrington, gets up from behind her desk and walks over, pulling me into a tight hug.
My father, Dr. Thomas Harrington, follows suit, standing to greet us with a smile, though his gaze is more scrutinizing than my mother's.
"I'm glad you two could make it." My father says, his voice warm but serious.
I smile faintly. "Of course, Dad."
Rafael nods politely. "Thank you for having us."
My mother leads us to the seating area, and we all sit. It's almost like nothing has changed since I was a little girl visiting my parents' office. The room is familiar, warm, bright, and filled with my mother's cheerful energy.
But there's a shift in the air when my mother starts speaking.
"So, Amanda. How are things going? How's school?" she asks, folding her hands on the desk and looking directly at me.
I feel the pressure immediately. My mother always has this way of making me feel like I'm under a microscope. Her eyes, sharp yet loving, seem to see straight through any excuse I might throw her way.
"It's going well. I'm just busy." I reply, keeping it vague.
But I can see the subtle shift in her expression. She's not buying it.
"I see. And how's everything?" she continues, her voice gentle but insistent.
I hesitate. My mind flashes back to last night, the tension between Rafael and me. His anger, his words.
Before I can answer, my father chimes in. "Amanda, we've been meaning to talk to you. About the situation." His tone is serious, and I feel the weight of his words pressing down on me.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Dad, I've already told you, I'm fine."
My mother leans forward slightly. "Amanda, we're not blind. We know what's been going on." She meets my eyes, her voice steady but firm.
My father nods. "We've noticed. And frankly, we're concerned. You've been reckless with your life, dealing with different..... boys."
I feel a wave of embarrassment wash over me. I open my mouth to respond, but my mother cuts me off.
"I know you're upset. But I also know you're capable of more, Amanda. We raised you better than this." Her voice softens for a moment, but there's still a firmness to it that stings.
"And that's why we've decided..." My father pauses, as if choosing his words carefully. "We will give you back your credit cards once we see that you're improving. I'll be watching, I'll know."
My heart sinks.
"But—"
"No buts." My mother interrupts, her tone final. "You need to prove to us that you can manage your life without relying on constant handouts. You're not a child anymore."
The silence that follows feels suffocating. I try to hide the anger and frustration rising in my chest, but it's impossible to ignore.
Rafael doesn't speak, but I can feel his gaze on me. It's not judgmental, not even critical. But it feels... unsettling. I can't tell if he's disappointed or just indifferent.
I stand up abruptly, feeling my temper rise. "I'll be fine. I don't need your help anymore." I snap, turning toward the door.
"Amanda, wait." My father's voice is sharp, but I don't turn around. I walk out of the office without saying another word.
The ride back to the mansion is just as silent as the ride to the hospital.
Rafael doesn't ask any questions, doesn't speak at all. It feels like he's giving me space, or maybe he just doesn't care anymore.
I wish I could say I'm fine. But deep down, I feel like I've just lost something I can't get back.
When we pull into the driveway of the mansion, I don't even wait for Rafael to open the door. I jump out and rush to my room, slamming the door behind me.
I throw myself onto the bed, letting the tears fall. I hate feeling like this, like I'm failing.
But more than that, I hate that Rafael's presence in my life only makes everything more complicated.