The worst was already over… but the silence after the storm had always been the part that left me not knowing what to do.
The two of us were there, on the floor of my bedroom, the air still heavy with the words that had been said. I felt his breathing slowly settle. And the more the silence grew, the more I realized what had really happened: Rafael hadn't run away—not this time. He was there… with me.
He ran a hand over his face, braced his arms on the floor, and let out a long sigh, like someone trying to return to their own body. I should have said something, anything… but I didn't know which word was right. Or if there even was one.
He broke the silence first.
— Helena… — his voice came out low, rough at the edges. — I shouldn't have left you alone with those doubts. I should have told you everything sooner, so you'd understand why I kept pushing you away.
He took a deep breath, his gaze locked on mine like he could no longer look away.
— I thought I'd be able to stay away from you. But every time I tried, I failed… miserably.
I swallowed hard.
Rafael stood up slowly and offered me his hand. I took it without hesitation, felt his fingers close around mine—firm, warm. When we were standing, he ran his hand through my hair, brushing a strand away from my face, his fingers grazing my skin lightly. He stayed there, looking at me… that attentive, deep look. And I couldn't help it: I thought of everything he'd carried alone.
A warm pressure rose in my chest—not pity… but desire.
The desire to touch… to ease, to show him he wasn't alone anymore… not anymore.
I stepped closer, slowly, lifted my hand and touched his face with my fingertips—a simple caress, full of things I couldn't say out loud.
His skin was warm. And the way he closed his eyes for a moment… as if it meant more than he'd expected…
That was when something in him broke.
Without warning, without hesitation, like he'd been holding it in for far too long, he pulled me in. A firm, quick movement that brought me straight against his chest.
My face met the warmth of his shirt, his scent, his heart beating far too fast for someone who seemed so controlled.
His arms wrapped around me like, in that second, he'd finally admitted to himself that he needed that touch just as much as I did.
For a moment, I thought staying there was enough.
But then he tilted his face slowly, as if checking whether I'd let him, and brushed his mouth against my temple. It was such a light touch it barely felt real—but the effect on me was immediate.
My breathing faltered. His did too.
He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes… and the kiss came before I could think. Soft, calm…
His hand slid up to my nape, guiding without pressure, and I answered without fear. I kissed him back, felt my response affect him… the kiss grew stronger, his hands slid over my waist and pulled me even closer, the heat rising until my skin tingled.
I didn't know where his breath ended and mine began.
Then—
Rrrrnnn.
The sound echoed between us like a humiliating thunderclap.
My stomach. I froze.
Rafael stopped immediately, still holding me, and for a second the silence was so devastating I thought about opening a hole in the floor and disappearing.
— I… — my voice died. — Sorry. I… I didn't…
He rested his forehead against mine, laughed softly, and slowly brushed his thumb over my lower lip, like he was saving the kiss to restart later.
— You're hungry — he said, still breathing hard. — We'd better eat.
I covered my face with my hands, burning with embarrassment.
— I want to die.
He gently pulled my hands away.
— Then die later — he murmured, his eyes fixed on mine. — Right now we're having dinner.
We went to the kitchen still half laughing, or at least trying to pretend we weren't replaying every second of that kiss.
I opened the freezer and pulled out a frozen pizza with the natural ease of someone used to saving improvised dinners that way.
— Does this work? — I asked, lifting the box.
— It does — Rafael replied, leaning lightly against the counter beside me.
While I put the pizza in the oven, he opened the backpack we'd taken to the river and lifted a chocolate bar like he was announcing a treasure.
— We didn't even touch this — he said, almost smiling. — We can attack everything during the episode.
— If there's time — I murmured, just to tease.
He raised an eyebrow, like my boldness was something he was still learning how to deal with.
— If there's no time, we pause the episode — he replied, simply, but with an intention that made my stomach flip.
I put my hand on my hip, trying to keep a composure I clearly didn't have.
— It's just food, Rafael.
— Uh-huh — he nodded, opening the fridge to grab a soda.
The pizza started baking, the smell filling the kitchen. I leaned against the sink and he stood beside me, his shoulder brushing mine.
Rafael opened a bag of chips and pushed it toward me.
— Just until the pizza's ready — he said. — So your stomach doesn't start talking to me again.
— Idiot — I murmured, but I took it anyway.
He laughed softly, that laugh I'd learned to recognize as pure satisfaction.
It was incredible: after everything we'd lived through that day, there we were… in my parents' kitchen, sharing chips.
As soon as the oven beeped, Rafael took the pizza out and carried it to the living room, balancing the hot pan with a care that almost made me laugh. I followed with the sodas in my hands, and we set everything on the coffee table.
While he cut the pizza into smaller slices, focused like it was an important mission, I turned on the TV and left the episode ready at the right spot.
He looked… happy. Truly happy—loose, alive. And that made something inside me feel light, like I'd finally taken off a heavy backpack.
We ate right there on the couch, sharing slices without ceremony. Rafael commented on the episode in his way—dry, direct—but with a stubborn smile at the corner of his mouth that gave everything away.
When the episode ended, far too quickly as always, I complained immediately:
— Already? I can't believe it… I'm not even sleepy yet.
I said it sulking like a spoiled kid.
He raised an eyebrow.
— That's a shame — he said, pretending to be grumpy. — Because I'm dying to go to sleep.
— Stop — I protested, lightly nudging his foot. — You know I don't want the day to end yet.
He sighed.
— Fine, Helena. One more episode. But only because it ended at a part that made me curious.
And before I could argue, he grabbed the remote, put on another episode…
and settled back on the couch.
Without looking at me, he just lifted his arm—that silent invitation he was getting far too good at making.
I went.
In seconds, I was lying there, my head on his arm, my legs tangled with his. Rafael adjusted himself behind me, firm, warm, protective in a way that didn't require effort.
His eyes stayed on the screen, attentive, serious… his hand resting on my stomach was far too gentle to match that focused expression.
The living room was quiet except for the TV, the house too. The whole world felt small, comfortable, made just for that moment.
I don't know exactly when…
but we fell asleep like that.
Two hearts in the same rhythm, two worlds that finally breathed together.