I don't remember when I closed my eyes; all I know is that when I woke up, the world was far too quiet.I was on the couch. I hadn't even noticed when I fell asleep there.
I took a slow breath… and only then did I feel it — someone was kneeling beside me.
Rafael.
So close I could have touched his shoulder just by lifting my hand… but I didn't move. I just looked.
He was watching my face — the kind of look no one gives by accident. Silent, careful, as if making sure I was really okay.
When my eyes opened, he startled. He stood up too quickly, like someone caught doing something he shouldn't.
— The lunch is ready — he said, voice low, almost shaky. — You… you didn't come down. I thought… I thought something might've happened.
I blinked slowly, still half-asleep, still wrapped in the warmth he had left hanging in the air with his closeness.
— I just… fell asleep — I said, sitting up and stretching my arms above my head. — Guess the tiredness won.
Rafael let out a faint smile.
— You can sleep anywhere — he said, trying to hide the relief. — If you could, you'd sleep standing up.
I laughed. Not because it was truly funny, but because there was something about that moment that made everything feel light.The silence, the waking… him there.
As if I'd woken up inside a good dream.
— Come on — I said, standing up from the couch. — I'm hungry.
He nodded and opened the door for me.
We walked together toward the stairs, no crutches.We went down in silence. On the ground floor, the table was already set… pasta. I loved the landlord's cooking — the seasoning, the simplicity, the warmth in every detail.
The kitchen was full of steam. The landlord saw us and gave a broad smile.
— Finally! — he said. — Thought you two had run away from my pasta.
I sat at the table, still carrying the warmth of sleep in my body. Rafael pulled out my chair without a word — like it was automatic. Like he'd done it a thousand times before.
The landlord served us generously. If it depended on him, no one would ever know what hunger felt like.
— So, Helena — he began, resting his elbows on the table — you'll be back at the university next week, right?
I nodded, twirling the pasta around my fork.
— Yeah. I'm… actually excited.
I was.But there was also a soft fear — because going back meant the routine, the hallways, the stares. Sometimes I wondered whether Rafael still drew the wrong kind of attention there.
— A classmate called today — I said, without thinking. — She asked why I didn't show up this week.
The landlord widened his eyes.
— Ah, I figured the folks at the college would notice — he said, adjusting his napkin. — When someone disappears, there's always one who misses them first.
Rafael kept his eyes on his plate. His fork turned the pasta slowly, like he needed something to keep his hands busy.
— And what did you tell her? — he asked, voice too neutral.
— That I fell down the stairs — I answered, lifting a brow at him — because I fell down the stairs.
He let out a short huff, but said nothing.
— Was she worried? — the landlord asked.
— Very — I took a sip of juice. — But mostly… curious.
The landlord laughed.
— That's what happens when someone misses you — he said, simple but meaningful.
I didn't answer. I finished my plate slowly, savoring every bite. The food was delicious, as always.When we were done, I helped gather the dishes.
— I'll wash — I said out of pure habit.
The landlord nearly slammed his hand on the table.
— Absolutely not! — he said, offended. — You barely got back on your feet. For now, you sit, eat, and say thank you.
Rafael agreed.
— Yeah. Don't overdo it.
I stood anyway.
— I'm going to the couch — I said with a small smile. — Don't want to get in your way.
The landlord laughed, pleased, carrying the dishes to the sink.
Rafael stayed beside me for a second.
— I'm heading out — he said, still looking at the table. — I have class this afternoon.
I nodded, waiting for him to look at me — but he didn't.
I walked to the couch and sank into the cushions.
He left through the door with long steps, the midday light shaping his shoulders as he walked out.The landlord watched until the gate closed, then turned to me — ready to assume I'd stay on the couch all afternoon, like always.
But I stood up slowly.
— I think I'll go upstairs — I said. — I want to check what's missing in the pantry, maybe use the afternoon to organize things.
He raised his eyebrows.
— Helena, if you go to the market and come back carrying heavy bags, your knee will protest immediately.
I laughed — because he was absolutely right.
— I'm not going out. I'll order everything online. They deliver at the door now, did you know?
The landlord sighed — half frustration, half amusement.
— I swear I try to keep up with this modern world, but technology is running faster than my legs.
— I can teach you if you want — I said, walking toward the door.
He gave a warm smile.
— I'd like that. Show me later.
I nodded and went upstairs… step by step.When I entered the apartment, I went straight to the little pantry beside the sink.I opened the cupboard and faced the truth:
— Oh, dear God.
Three packs of cookies, two instant noodles, a jar of coffee almost empty. And… a can of corn? Why does that can always appear?
— Congratulations, Helena. Diet of an athlete — I muttered, hands on my hips.
If I wanted to survive the week, I needed a big order.
I opened the grocery app and added the basics: rice, beans, fruit, bread, coffee… the usual things normal people buy.But halfway through the list, my finger stopped — chocolate powder.
And right there — simple, almost silly — the idea came.
I added to the cart:• cocoa powder• condensed milk• heavy cream• butter• a bar of semisweet chocolate• flour and eggs
It wasn't a random purchase.It was the kind of shopping list made for evenings together.Quiet nights. Warm kitchens.
I wanted… to create a reason.Because now that my knee was better, with no falls, no crutches, no obvious excuses… Rafael wouldn't have to be around anymore.
If I didn't do something… the closeness would fade.And that was out of the question.
I started imagining the things we could do, if I dared to suggest it.Nothing extraordinary — small things.Making brigadeiro and eating it straight from the pan, watching a movie, starting a series.Playing soft music while cooking something silly at ten at night.Maybe even… playing cards, or just talking.
I wanted those moments — the kind of intimacy that grows in details.In the offhanded sit here, the casual taste this with a spoon held out.
I sighed, aware of how ridiculous I might be… or too romantic, or too bold, or too foolish.But deep inside, I knew…Despite all his attempts to keep distance or hide behind coldness, I had felt the way he held me, the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't noticing — the care he never managed to disguise.
If I was going to fall again, then this time it would be on purpose — and with my heart wide open.
I tapped "Place Order."