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You’re at the store when you feel the buzz of a text notification. You gasp, scrambling to see who the notification came from. You giggle with delight when a familiar name pops up.
Rafayel: cant get any inspiration today
Rafayel: but something tells me seeing your face would change that
Not wanting to look like a psycho in the grocery store, you hide your vibrant smile behind your hand. In fact, at any time you’re in the presence of others, you tend to hide how excited you are to hear from him. That goes doubly in the presence of Rafayel himself; his teasing would be out of control, you predict.
Me: I’m out and about, but once I finish, I’ll head over there!
You turn the screen off. Now, you continue inspecting different apples to see which looks the least bruised. To an onlooker, you might appear as though discerning the nicest apple brings you near euphoric joy. You hum a joyful tune as you hold up each apple one by one.
Finally with your selection, you put the bag of apples in your cart and keep moving. You round the corner of the aisle, and you pause. Your stomach suddenly drops so intensely you have to grip your shopping cart for balance.
Is that…
Him?
Surely not. You squint a little, unsure if you’re mistaking someone who looks similar. But surely enough, there he is, the man from your past, inspecting some products on an end cap. And he stands only a few meters away. He starts to turn his head-
Nope, nope, nope. You practically trip over yourself turning around and dashing towards the checkout. It’s fine, you tell yourself. As long as he doesn't see you, if you leave now, you’ll avoid him.
Some corner of your mind registers that you feel another notification buzz. But the information gets lost in the frenzied storm that is your mind.
Seconds feel like hours as you walk as fast as you can, dodging fruit displays and customers who give you strange looks. You clench your teeth, willing your body to stop trembling, but it’s impossible. Every pore on your skin feels electrified. Your knuckles turn white as you grip the metal bar of your shopping cart. You can feel your heartbeat in your head.
You can see the finish line. The checkouts are just seconds away, if you can will yourself to walk a little faster-
At that moment, a figure walks out of the aisle in front of you, and you come to a sudden halt to prevent a crash.
“No,” you whisper so quietly that no one else can hear you. Tears fill your eyes as the man in question walks in front of you. With a smirk, he leans on the end of your shopping cart, a lying smile in his eyes. You try to pull the cart from his grasp, but he only grips more tightly.
“Hey, you,” he greets with a cheery tone, as if you see each other every day. Once more, you struggle to try to free the cart from his grip, but he does not relent. “Ah-ah-ah,” he says, wagging his finger. “You’re really gonna make a scene right now? I just wanted to say hi.” He sighs and shakes his head.
“I,” you whisper, unable to find words. “I… don’t.” You dig your nails into your palms, willing your voice to stop trembling. Every bone in your body is tense and still as a statue under his gaze. “Let go.”
“C’mon now,” Maintaining a firm grip on the cart, he starts to walk closer to you. “Let’s talk.” He’s within an arm’s reach now. It’s impossible for you to conceal how your breath is heavy, your heart pounding. “I missed you, you know.” He holds your chin between his index finger and thumb.
Meanwhile, you’re paralyzed. You feel dizzy, faintly worried that you might lose your balance and fall over right here.
He leans in and whispers to you. His face is getting closer to yours, his hot breath on your face. Those too familiar eyes stare straight into yours, feeling like they’re piercing your mind, depriving you of everything. “How’s my girl?”
How weak, how pathetic, how powerless, you berate yourself. When faced with this one man, all you can do is freeze. His other hand moves to rest on your waist.
Your already pounding heart skips a beat as you register another vibration, indicating that you got a text. The man before you must not have noticed it, because he doesn’t even flinch.
Somehow, this fact kindles a small flame in your frozen psyche. It melts just enough of the ice around your heart to bring back your presence of mind. “Stop it,” you squeak out with less than a percent of the strength you intend, “I’m not your girl.”
The man backs off a bit, his eyebrows furrowing in seeming confusion at your statement. Adrenaline pumps through your veins as you let go of the shopping cart and make a mad dash for the exit. You hear shouting, and then a pair of footsteps starts to chase you.
***
You regain control of your thoughts the moment you’re at your doorstep. You look around, scanning for signs of his presence, but you find none. You release the breath that you were holding and walk into your apartment.
Collapsing on the couch, you put your hand on your chest, feeling your racing heart. Tears spring to your eyes, and finally, in comfort and privacy, you feel free to let sobs rack your body.
What a messed up day, you think. You didn’t get your groceries. You got scared half to death- no, you’re still scared. And you left your cart sitting somewhere and full of groceries; you never wanted to be the kind of inconsiderate jerk to do something like that.
Your phone rings. Ah. The feeling of dread returns as you fish your phone out of your purse. Seeing Rafayel’s name and contact photo no longer fills you with delight, but with guilt, despair, and gloom.
You decline the call and turn your device to Do Not Disturb.
Dammit. You lay face down and clench one of the decorative pillows of the couch. It soaks up your tears as you sob.
You want to be your best self for Rafayel; he tells you how much he loves your smile, after all. The idea of him seeing you as you are- weak, pathetic, useless, and above all, broken- feels like a stab in the gut. So you mentally apologize to him, hoping he’ll forgive you. Perhaps he will move on soon. Perhaps he would rather give his love to someone with less baggage…
Your thoughts send you in a downward spiral.
***
Several knocks on your door cause you to jump. Your session of spacing out by staring into a steaming hot tea cup comes to an end. You shake your head and go to open the door.
“Rafayel,” you whisper, straightening your back. You take deep breaths and mentally subtract 7s from 1,000 as you try not to look or sound like you’ve been crying.
“Someone isn’t looking very out and about right now. In fact,” he continues, raising his eyebrows at you, “dare I say, she’s looking like a cutie off-duty.”
“Ah, yeah. Um.” You fidget with your fingers and stare at the wall next to him, searching your mind for a response. “I guess so.”
“Hah, you ‘guess’? Hey.” He leans forward, looking at you more carefully, and he looks surprised. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah.”
He narrows his eyes at you. “You remember when I told you that you’re not allowed to hide your injuries from me? Starting right now, I’m extending that to emotional ones.” Inviting himself into your house, he walks right in and sits on the couch like he owns the place. He nods at the spot next to him. Despite your reluctance, you sit down, your posture frigid.
For the next minute, you two sit in silence with you avoiding his gaze. He looks at you with interest, but maintains an arm’s length distance. “You can tell me anything, you know,” he says, and when he speaks, he’s so tender that you can’t help your fluttering heart.
“Mmm,” you hum a noncommittal response. He’s being sweet. You clench your fists in your lap, gaze fixed on the floor. But I don’t know if I can do this.
Rafayel makes himself comfortable on your sofa, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs. “Did something happen, or are you generally not feeling good?”
“Something…” You trail off, your mind racing with self-doubt and what-ifs. Rafayel seems to understand what you mean, though.
“An incident. And,” he pauses, contemplating. He leans forward, examining your reactions like you’re a lab rat. Strangely, you don’t hate it. “Did it make you sad, mad, or something else?”
“Scared,” you say, and you’re surprised at how easily the word slips from your mouth. You see Rafayel giving you a gentle look, and suddenly, the doubts you had earlier about his view of you seem insignificant and silly. “H-he… was there.”
In an instant, his expression changes. He frowns and becomes tense next to you. “Did ‘he’, whoever he is, threaten you?” Something flashes in his eyes that you haven’t seen before; something dark.
“No. But-” Suddenly, a choked sob rises in your throat, and you cover your mouth to stop yourself. You blink away your tears and slow your breathing so you can speak. “But he said- he-” You clear your throat, desperately trying to save face.
When you glance over at Rafayel, the look on his face induces a whirlwind of emotions within you. He looks pained, and for a moment, you want to push away all of your problems and help him with his. “May I?” He reaches out a hand to you, stopping halfway. You can’t keep the smile off your face as you nod in consent.
He rests his hand on the side of your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb, wiping away a tear you didn’t notice. “Please don’t censor your feelings around me.” The tone he speaks in is so soft and so impossibly kind that you feel warmth in your whole body. It’s unlike any you’ve ever felt before. “Anything that happens to you, good or bad, you can tell me.” He leans in, bumping your foreheads against each other. “It’s safe.”
As expected, your self-doubting thoughts surface at his words. They gnaw at you, begging for acknowledgement. This time, though, there is another, equally loud voice in your head. It sounds like Rafayel, who speaks to you like you’re his world. With his other hand, he starts to massage your shoulder. Your heart can barely stand all the affection in his eyes.
“Thank you.” You put your hand atop his as it still rests on your face. “Thank you so much.”
The doorbell rings. Clearing your throat and wiping your face, you stand up to open the door. As you walk towards it, you hear Rafayel wordlessly standing up as well. It gives you butterflies and a sense of security.
You open the door to reveal your worst nightmare.
“Hey, you,” he greets. This time, his tone is low and more serious. He looks you in the eyes, and it takes all your strength not to look away.
“Why?” You choke out. Footsteps approach from behind you. Even though the man in front of you takes a step forward, you stand still.
“We have unfinished business.” Those soulless eyes bore into yours, and once again, the ice cold feeling of powerlessness rushes through your veins. “You know, I’ll forgive you if we can just have a talk now.” The very thought makes you sick. You clench your fists at your sides. “Just like we did before, you and I can-”
“Honey, who’s this?”
Rafayel joins you, and he wastes no time in draping himself all over you. One hand goes around your shoulders, while the other wraps around your waist. He holds you, staring at the man. “Did we invite guests over?”
“No,” you respond. “No, I don’t think we did.” You lean your head on his chest.
All the lonely feelings of being subjugated by this man melt away. They’re replaced by safety and warmth. You turn your head to look at the man, who’s giving the two of you an incredulous look. He opens his mouth and his lips move, but he doesn’t manage to speak a word.
“I think he ought to leave then.” Rafayel speaks sternly, a stark contrast to the affectionate gesture he initiates when he strokes your hair.
“Me too.”
Right now, with your two gazes trained on him, and with his jaw on the floor-
You feel strong.