As he drew closer, Rafael’s familiar scent reached me.
I forced myself to sit straighter.
To soften my expression.
To become something closer to calm than what I actually felt, which was an uncomfortable mix of anticipation and fear I didn’t want to name.
I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for anymore.
“Hi, Rafael,” I greeted, keeping my voice steady even though my chest tightened as I spoke.
There was a pause.
I could imagine his eyes moving over the room—the table, the carefully arranged plates, Tess sitting quietly beside me, the symmetry of what I had tried to create.
“Hey.”
One word.
Always like that with him.
I swallowed, my fingers shifting under the table, twisting together without permission.
“Um...” I started, then stopped briefly, recalibrating. I hated how uncertain I sounded, but I pushed forward anyway. “You said the last time that we should start having breakfast together. And... doing things as a family.”
The wordfamilyfelt strange on my tongue when applied to him.
I continued anyway.
“Playing games. Building routines. But so far, you haven’t initiated anything.”
A pause.
I heard him move slightly—just enough for fabric to shift, just enough to remind me he was fully present, listening.
So I forced myself to finish.
“So I decided to take the first step.”
My throat tightened, but I kept going.
“I prepared your favorite food—Jamón Ibérico—for us tonight. As a way to begin this ritual. I hope...” My voice dipped slightly, softer now, more uncertain despite my effort. “I hope we can keep it up. Daily, if you’d like.”
Silence stretched between us, growing heavier with each passing second, until I could hear everything I wasn’t meant to notice—Tess’s steady, quiet breathing, the soft hum of the house at rest, and a distant ticking I couldn’t identify but couldn’t ignore either.
My fingers tightened under the table.
Had I misstepped?
Had I misunderstood him entirely?
A familiar fear crept in, slow and invasive—the one I always tried to keep buried.
That I was not something chosen.
Just somethingplaced.
A convenience. A responsibility.
