I woke up slowly, as if my body were afraid to remember what happened yesterday.For a second, I just stared at the ceiling.
And then it all came back—the fall in the bathroom, the pain shooting through my knee.Me yelling for him not to come in because I wasn't wearing anything.Rafael coming in anyway, eyes shut, grumbling, scooping me up as if I weighed nothing.
My hand went to my face on its own… if I could dig a hole and live inside it for the rest of my life, I would.But then I remembered the other part—the part that warmed my chest entirely…Him drying my hair with so much patience, holding the ends between his fingers as if they were made of glass.
After that, I remember lying down, my knee throbbing, and not even trying to pretend it didn't hurt.Then he brought me a painkiller and a glass of water without saying a word.I took it, curled under the blanket… and the last thing I remember is him sitting on the edge of the bed, head lowered, as if he were trying to decide whether to say something.
I fell asleep before knowing if he did.
"Great," I muttered with irony, burying my face in the pillow. "I fell asleep before even saying goodnight to Rafael."
I sat up carefully—my knee complained, but it didn't hurt like yesterday.Nothing was worse than before, except for an ugly bruise on my arm.I grabbed my phone to check the time, and there was a message.From him…
My heart skipped a beat.Rafael never texted me.He had saved his number on my phone, but I didn't know he had mine too.
I opened it.
I'm at the university. I'll be back for lunch. And don't do anything stupid until I get there.
I read it once.Twice.Three times.
It was so him that it made me want to laugh and hug him at the same time.Worry disguised as bad temper—or bad temper disguised as worry, I never really knew which came first.
I typed:
I'll try not to die in the bathroom again.
Deleted it.
Typed again:
Okay.
Sent it.
I kept staring at the screen for a few seconds.No typing bubbles.Of course not.
I smiled to myself, hidden in the quiet of the room.
It wasn't a "good morning," nor a "how are you?", but coming from him, it was enough.
I got up slowly, leaning on the wall before reaching for the crutches.Every movement was still calculated, a little slow.I put on the first dress I found hanging on the chair—light, soft, easy to slip into without too much effort.
While smoothing the fabric over my knees, a sigh escaped me on its own.Everything was beginning to flow again.With short steps, but still flowing.
I adjusted the knee brace, ran my hand through my hair, and walked to the window.The day was bright, beautiful, and the smell of wet earth reached me first.
The landlord was down there, as always, watering the garden with that patience that seemed to wrap around everything.
When he saw me at the window, he lifted his head and smiled.
"Good morning, Helena!" he called, raising the watering can in greeting.
"Good morning!" I answered, my smile coming without effort.
I went back inside, supporting myself on the crutches down the hallway to the kitchen.Picked a ripe apple from the fruit bowl, washed it slowly.The cold water running over my fingers brought a sense of normalcy I hadn't realized I'd been missing.
I was in a good mood—like things had finally stopped pulling me down.
Of course, yesterday's conversation still weighed a little.Thinking about Rafael's mother, thinking about him as a child, trying to hold together a world that was too big… that still tightened something inside me.
But at the same time, there was something new growing there, a calm certainty.
From now on, he wouldn't carry everything alone.I wouldn't let him.
I breathed deeply, took another bite of the apple, and closed my eyes for a moment.
Tomorrow, maybe the doctor would finally free me from the crutches—and the knee brace too.I was ready.Or at least… trying to be.