Chapter 57

My hands tremble slightly as I wipe the sheen of sweat from Rafael's forehead, my fingers ghosting over the bruise, darkening his temple. The antiseptic smell burns my nostrils, mixing with the metallic tang of blood that still lingers in the air. Afternoon sunlight streams through the bedroom windows, harsh and unforgiving, illuminating every cut, every bruise on his body. The fresh stitches trail across his torso like dark spider webs against his tan skin – the doctor's careful handiwork barely containing the damage beneath.

Despite my pleading, Rafael refuses to go to the hospital. His stubbornness makes me want to scream, but I swallow the urge and settle for perching vigilantly beside him on the bed. I'll stay here as long as it takes to make sure he doesn't slip away from me – though I hate that I still care this much.

Julio's words from earlier echo in my mind. The puzzle pieces finally clicking into place feels like a punch to the gut – R