Chapter 23 (Author’s POV)

Raphael dragged himself through the quiet hallways of the house, each step heavier than the last. His body ached from the weight of the day-meetings, his father's unexpected visit, and the tensions that clung to him from every corner of his life.

He longed for nothing more than a quiet evening, the peace of his home, and the solace of Amanda's presence beside him.

The thought of her, her warmth, her smile, was the only thing that kept him going. He just needed to get through the night, get into bed, and sleep beside her.

The house was eerily still, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound. He walked in, his footsteps echoing in the large, empty space.

There she was-Amanda, asleep at the dining table. The sight of her, bent over the table, her head resting on her arms, stirred something inside him, something warm, something human. This time, he didn't just walk past her. He couldn't.

He approached her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, before her gaze landed on him. Raphael sat down in one of the chairs across from her.

"Why were you waiting for me?" he asked, his voice low but soft.

Amanda chuckled lightly, her eyes meeting his with a faint twinkle. "Because you're my husband, and I intend to make sure this agreement is fully met."

A deep sigh escaped him as he stared at her, his gaze lingering. For a moment, he said nothing, simply taking in the beauty before him.

It was as if he was trying to memorise every inch of her face, every curve, every detail, so that he would never forget it. So that, no matter what came next, he would always have this image of her in his mind.

She broke the silence, her voice soft. "I made dinner."

"I'm famished," he admitted, his stomach growling in agreement. "I'm actually hungry."

"Then go upstairs, shower, and come back down to eat," she said, standing up and offering him a smile.

Raphael's lips curled into a mischievous grin. "Come shower with me," he teased, his voice laced with playfulness.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "For a man your age, you sure know how to flirt."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, my age?"

"Just go upstairs and shower," she said with a smirk, nudging him gently.

He laughed and headed upstairs, his mind still drifting between the weight of the day and the warmth of her presence.

Once in the bathroom, he peeled off his clothes, his body aching in places he couldn't even name. The hot water was a brief relief, easing the tension from his muscles.

But the moment he stepped out of the shower, reaching for his cabinet to take his medication, it hit him. The blurry vision came first, the world around him spinning in a dizzying whirl. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the floor, his head throbbing as if a vice was crushing it from the inside.

Pain surged through him, sharp and relentless. His body went numb, unable to speak, unable to cry out. His breath hitched in his chest as he lay there, helpless.

This was the life he had to live now-a life shadowed by the disease, the curse that had followed him since that fateful day.

His heart pounded with fear-fear that Amanda would find him like this, that she would see his weakness and see through his carefully constructed façade. He couldn't let her know. He couldn't.

The sound of a knock at the door made his heart race.

"Amanda," he whispered, praying she wouldn't come in. He didn't want her to see him like this.

He wanted her to have the best, to live a life without the burden of his sickness. He loved her more than anything in the world, but he couldn't let her see him break.

Another knock.

The minutes felt like hours as he lay there, battling the waves of pain. Slowly, his vision started to return to normal.

His body began to stabilize, and he gritted his teeth, willing himself to stand. He reached for the pills, popped them into his mouth, and swallowed them with a glass of water.

Once the pain began to dull, he quickly tucked the bottle back into the cabinet, concealing the truth of what he had just experienced.

With a deep breath, he straightened himself, smoothing his hair back, and went to the door. He opened it, flashing her a bright smile.

"I kept knocking, why didn't you open up?" Amanda asked, a slight frown on her face.

"I just got out of the bathroom," he said casually. "Miss me?"

She smiled, her eyes softening as she looked at him. "Come downstairs old man, the food is getting cold."

He chuckled, sighing in relief that she had not seen him in that state

Together, they descended the stairs, the quiet between them comfortable, the kind of silence that came with understanding.

He followed her to the dining table, the night ahead uncertain but for one thing-her warmth, and the fleeting hope that he could keep his secret for just a little longer.