My chest tightened.
This was Rafael’s world.
I forced myself to move, though my attention kept snagging on details.
Eventually, I made my way toward my room on the ground floor.
The double doors opened with a quiet ease beneath my hands, and I stepped inside, pausing instinctively at the threshold.
For a brief second, my body expected darkness—expected the familiar uncertainty of not knowing where anything was.
But now I could see.
And what I saw made a small, fragile smile tug at my lips.
The room was... simple.
A large wardrobe stood against the wall. A king-sized bed. A vanity table sat near the window, its surface clear except for a neatly arranged set of essentials.
No clutter. No sharp corners jutting out. No unnecessary furniture to navigate around.
It was safe.
The realization settled into me slowly, then all at once.
This room hadn’t been designed for comfort alone—it had been designed for me.
For the version of me that couldn’t see.
My fingers curled slightly at my sides as something warm spread through my chest.
Rafael had thought about this.
He had anticipated my needs without being asked, had shaped an entire space around my limitations without ever making me feel like a burden.
That kind of consideration... it wasn’t casual.
I exhaled quietly, stepping further into the room, my gaze lingering on the bed before drifting to the window.
Sunlight filtered in gently.
But even as I took it in, as I let myself feel that fragile sense of comfort...
My thoughts circled back to him.
Rafael.
A restless energy stirred beneath my ribs.
I had built him piece by piece in my mind during the long months of darkness.
His voice had been my guide.
His scent had become familiar in a way that felt almost intimate.
His touch... God, his touch had told me more than sight ever could.
But his face?
