Rafael wakes slowly to the faint light filtering through the curtains. The room is quiet except for Ana's steady breathing beside him. For a while, he lies still, feeling the cool sheets against his skin and the dull ache along his side—a ghost of last night's tension, and the careless way he moved too fast, too soon.
But it's not the pain that makes him sit up abruptly.
It's the dream. Or maybe a memory. Marilena's voice—soft but disappointed—echoing something she never actually said. "You chose her. And look what it's costing you."
He winces, clutching his side. The bedsprings creak as he swings his legs off, careful not to disturb Ana. She shifts slightly but doesn't wake.
