Riding back home should have cooled my head, but it didn't… not even a little. Had I understood everything wrong? Had I built an entire theory out of my own fear? Had I been… immature?
The question hit my chest like a stone.
I wanted to believe I was right, that what I said made sense. But the more I replayed every word, the more it all started to feel like it was in my head—one rushed conclusion after another, stitched together with insecurity.
And deep down, I knew part of me reacted to him in a feral way… all it took was for him to get close, to touch me, and my body forgot how to breathe.
And maybe I'd assumed that because he looked so controlled, so quiet on the outside… he felt less. Or felt nothing.
Every pedal stroke tightened that feeling inside me. Guilt, shame, regret—all mixed together.
When I reached the garage, I abandoned the bike without any care.
The sky was already shifting color, that tone between late afternoon and night.
I went in fast and headed straight to my room. I shut the door, leaned my forehead against it, and felt the full weight of my own impulsiveness drop onto my shoulders.
How was I going to look at Rafael now?
After everything I dumped on him… after I put words in his mouth he never said… after I walked away in the middle of the conversation.
I threw myself onto the bed, my heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with anger. It was just fear… fear that I'd ruined something that hadn't even properly started yet.
Fear of facing his expression, of finding out he was truly hurt.
The room was already dark, only the weak light from the streetlamp seeped in through the window. I tried to breathe deeply, but the air didn't seem to obey.
Then I heard the front door—the soft creak that slid under my skin like an electric shock. My heart jumped, one hard, urgent beat. He was back.
Footsteps followed soon after… slow… as if he were thinking about each one before taking the next.
They crossed the living room… paused for a moment… then continued down the hallway.
I held my breath without noticing.
The steps grew closer… much closer.
Then, silence.
My bedroom door opened and his shadow appeared. He didn't call my name, didn't say anything—he just… stopped there, as if giving me time. Or maybe because he didn't know where to start either.
My whole body went cold. I had run. I had shoved my insecurities at him as if they were absolute truths.
And he… was still there anyway.
For a second I thought about pretending I was asleep. For another, I thought about hiding under the bed. But the truth was I could only stay there, lying down, my heart beating too loud… waiting for him to decide what he would do next.
Then he came to the bed and sat on the floor, his back against the mattress, right beside me, but with his back turned to me.
For a few seconds, we just listened to each other breathe, until he rubbed his face in a quick gesture and spoke, still without looking at me:
— Helena… you think I stayed with you out of gratitude to your father. But it's the opposite. I always tried to keep my distance from you out of gratitude to your father.
My chest tightened.
He took a deep breath, fingers lacing over his knee, before continuing.
Then he lifted his chin a little, staring at the wall ahead.
— My mom worked at an industrial laundry. Strong chemicals, steam, everything with no protection. My dad begged her more than once to leave… but she stayed. Said the paycheck helped pay for my things… my studies. Said I deserved a better future.
His voice faltered, but only for a second.
— I remember hearing that my whole life… "for Rafael's future." Until the day she couldn't cross the living room without stopping to catch her breath.
He finally looked at me.
— I spent years thinking she got sick… because of me.
He breathed in slowly.
— And to make it worse… after she died, my dad sued the laundry. They knew the risk, they'd known for years. There were reports, complaints, everything. They just pretended it didn't exist.
I didn't move.
— The compensation came… and it was high… high enough to buy the house we live in now, to pay my entire college, to leave money invested so we can live off the interest.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Such a small gesture, but so full of contained pain it throbbed inside me.
— And every cent — he said, finally meeting my eyes — came because she died. Because I did nothing… because I, seeing she was exhausted, could only think it was normal. I saw my dad asking her to quit, saying it was hurting her… but in my head… — his jaw clenched — parents argue. That's just how it is.
I couldn't stand hearing him like that.
— Rafael… you were just a kid…
— I couldn't understand what it meant that she coughed all the time, or the way she'd stop in the hallway to breathe. I thought it was just… being tired.
His eyes dropped. He went quiet for a while. I waited… because now I knew: everything in him came with a lock, and every lock only opened when he decided.
Then he rubbed his face and rested his forearm on his bent knee.
— And there's one more thing — he said, at last, not looking at me. — Something that weighs too… and I never thought I should put it on you.
My heart tightened again.
— You don't have to… — I started.
— I do. — He cut me off, this time looking at me. — If there's someone who deserves to know where all of this comes from… it's you.
He drew a deep, slow breath.
— After we moved away from here, I spent a while on my own… I couldn't fit in. Then this boy started showing up… tried to make conversation, walked behind me after school, asked stupid questions just to keep talking.
I smiled faintly. It was exactly the kind of person I'd imagined would be drawn to Rafael, but he didn't smile back.
— I avoided him — he continued. — But one day… I saw him getting beat up. Three guys surrounding him, hitting him like he was nothing. I… I didn't think, I just went. — His hand went to the back of his neck. — I got him out, and after that, we became friends.
I stayed silent…
— But… a long time later, outside of school, those same guys cornered us. They were waiting. Their leader went for him, and… I went for the leader. I was bigger then, stronger, full of anger stacked up from everything. I threw punches, knocked him down.
His voice broke.
— My friend tried to hold me back — he murmured. — He just wanted to stop me, Helena… that's all. But I was… blind. I shoved him too hard. He fell backward. — Rafael planted his hands on the floor, like he needed something to keep him upright. — He fell wrong. His spine… hit the curb.
My stomach turned.
— Rafael…
— He spent months in the hospital. — His voice was barely a whisper. — Months… and he never walked again… never again.
Rafael took a deep breath, like he had to cross another piece of the story before he could step out of it.
— After the accident… his parents hated my father, hated me. And I understand… I really do.
He swallowed.
— And then I decided I couldn't be close to anyone. — His throat tightened. — Because, Helena… there's something in me that pulls out the worst, and whoever stays close ends up paying for it. I feel like I bring bad luck, pain… consequences.
His eyes drifted away, far from the room, far from me.
I bolted off the bed, and in one second I was on the floor, kneeling in front of him, pulling him into me. His head sank into my chest like my arms could hold the pain he'd carried alone for years.
— They pulled him out of school — he continued, his head against me. — Said they wouldn't expose their son to "any more risk." They hired private tutors. Locked down the house. And of course… they forbade him from talking to me.
My throat locked. It wasn't crying, I knew… it was the urgency of staying standing for him, of being steady enough to hold what he couldn't hold alone anymore.
— I tried to respect it — Rafael murmured. — I thought… it was the least I could do. That staying away was the only way I could do something right after doing so much wrong.
He lifted his head from my chest and looked at me.
— But I couldn't. I needed… I needed to see him at least once. Say something, apologize, anything.
— So one day… — he let out a short, exhausted laugh — I did what my chest was asking for. I waited until it was late, waited for the lights in the house to go out… and I climbed his window.
I held my breath.
Rafael kept looking at me, his eyes full of something that wasn't regret—it was memory.
— And when I went in… — he swallowed — I thought he would scream, or tell me to get out, say he hated me.
He shook his head, disbelieving, like he was reliving it right there.
— But he smiled. — His voice softened. — He smiled at me like I'd saved him from the world. Like there was no anger at all, only… missing me.
My chest cracked open, and tears rose— not from pain, but from relief, from knowing he hadn't been as alone as he thought.
Rafael went on:
— He told me he thought I'd never show up again. And I… I started going whenever I could. Always late, through the window. We talked, played some board game, laughed.
He took a deep breath.
— And even now… I still go. I try to go often, because I know he feels lonely. When his parents are asleep. They don't want to see me there… but he… he does.
The silence that settled felt alive, pulsing between us.
Now everything made sense.
The gate creaking, him leaving late at night…
But before my thoughts could run, Rafael continued.
— That's why I was always so rigid with you. That's why I disappeared every time we got too close. I… — his hand closed, like he was gripping something that still hurt. — I couldn't let myself complicate the life of the daughter of the man who gave my mother's suffering a dignified end.
My chest hurt, because now I understood every distance, every silence.
And still… he was wrong. So wrong.
— Rafael… — my voice came out before I even meant it to. — Your father also saved my family.
He lifted his eyes.
— When my dad went bankrupt, we had nowhere to go. Nothing, Rafael.
I took a breath.
— Your father gave us a roof. He waited as long as my father needed to get back on his feet and pay him back.
I leaned in closer, feeling my words find the right place.
— It wasn't only you who received something. I did too. My family did. And you… you never owed us anything. Never.
He looked at me like something inside him had finally cracked—like an old belief was losing its grip.
And in his eyes, stripped of every defense, I understood the real reason for everything: it wasn't about debt at all. It was about the force of what was growing between us—and the overwhelming fear that force brought with it.