Distant

The morning after everything feels... different. Good thing is that, we don't have a class today.

I wake up late, the sunlight already pouring through the window, its golden glow casting long shadows on the floor. I drag myself out of bed, groggy, my mind still caught on the tension from last night.

Rafael's words echo in my mind, playing over and over like a broken record.

"Stop playing around."

"Stop being so immature."

I rub my temples, trying to shake off the headache that comes with those memories. I feel like I'm drowning in them.

I bite my lip, staring at the ceiling. The guilt is suffocating. I know I acted out of frustration, but why does it feel like I've crossed a line I can't uncross?

I should've apologized. I should've explained myself better. But... part of me didn't want to. I wanted to stay angry, to hold onto that feeling of control, of rebellion.

But deep down, I knew he was right. I had been playing games.

I finally get out of bed, brushing the sleep from my eyes. I drag myself to the bathroom, splash some cold water on my face, and sigh at my reflection.

I'm just about to grab my phone when I hear a knock at the door.

"Amanda?" Rafael's voice comes through the wood, soft but firm. "You awake?"

I freeze. Should I open the door? Should I face him after everything that happened last night?

I take a deep breath, walking to the door and cracking it open, but not enough for him to fully enter.

"Yeah?" I say, my voice sounding almost foreign to me.

He stands there for a moment, his face unreadable. He's waiting for me to speak first, but I can't find the right words.

Finally, he exhales, breaking the silence. "I'm not asking you to be perfect, Amanda."

I feel my chest tighten. "What do you mean?"

He gives me a side glance, his eyes cold but not unkind. "I'm not going to keep running after you."

I swallow hard, trying to process his words. "I... I didn't mean to push you away. I just—"

He holds up a hand. "No more excuses, Amanda. You're a grown woman. Figure it out. We have to go to your family's hospital after school. Be ready."

Without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, feeling small and insignificant.

I force myself to get up and go about my day. The whole time, the weight of his silence from last night looms over me. I pick at my phone and see a message from Sophie:

"We're meeting at the café. You in?"

Before I can respond, another text pops up—Rafael.

"Don't forget, I'm picking you up for the hospital later. Be ready."

I read it twice. His message feels like business, nothing more. He's just doing what he said he would. But... why does it feel so distant?

I put the phone down and, with a deep sigh, grab my bag and head out.

When I arrive at the café, I spot Sophie and Ashley at a corner booth. Sophie waves excitedly, her smile wide and full of energy.

Cleo grins, clearly eager to catch up. As I walk over to them, I can feel the weight of the conversation coming.

Sophie leans in. "Amanda, seriously. What's going on with you and Montgomery?"

I roll my eyes. "Really, Sophie? You're still on that?"

Ashley crosses her arms, looking me over. "You're living with him now, right?"

I take a deep breath. "It's... complicated."

Sophie looks at me, raising an eyebrow. "Complicated? Come on, you're practically living together. And don't answer me with just a family friend, that's bullshit, I saw how you react to me."

I can feel my cheeks heating up. I don't know how to explain it to them. I'm not sure I even understand it myself.

"It's not what you think, okay?" I say, brushing the topic aside.

But before either of them can ask more questions, the door opens, and James walks in. My heart drops into my stomach.

He doesn't see me at first, but when he does, his face hardens. I can tell he's not happy, but he walks over confidently, sitting down without asking.

"Amanda." He leans in, looking me directly in the eye. "We need to talk."

Ashley and Cleo exchange uneasy glances, but I feel the tension in my chest. What now?

"James, it's over. We've talked about this already." I keep my tone as firm as I can, trying not to sound too uncertain.

He ignores my words, leaning forward. "You can't just walk away from this, Amanda. You're making a mistake."

I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off. "Is this about money?"

I feel my face flush with anger. How dare he say that?

Before I can respond, a voice from the other side of the café interrupts us. "Hey, you alright?"

I look up, startled. A guy I don't recognize is standing there, tall and well-dressed, his gaze flicking between me and James.

He looks at James, his voice smooth but firm. "I think it's time you leave."

James glares at him. "Who the hell are you?"

The guy doesn't flinch. "Doesn't matter. But I'm pretty sure you're overstaying your welcome."

James is taken aback by the stranger's boldness, but he doesn't want to cause more of a scene. With a final glare at me, he stands up and walks out of the café, muttering under his breath.

I stare after him for a moment, before turning to the guy who helped me. He offers me a small, easy smile. "Don't mention it."

"Thanks." I say, a little unsure of what just happened.

The guy sits down across from me, his eyes warm yet distant. "I'm Lance, by the way."

Cleo raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "We didn't ask."

Lance laughs, his voice light. "She seemed eager to know."

Cleo rolled her eyes. "Ugh—Another playboy."

The teasing nature of his words almost makes me laugh. "Oh, why not? You're cute."

The moment the words leave my lips, I immediately picture Rafael. His face, his eyes, the way he looks at me when he's angry. And that feeling hits me, guilt.

But before I can dwell on it, Lance's voice pulls me back to reality.

"So, what do you say? Want to grab dinner later?" he asks, leaning in slightly.

I bite my lip, conflicted. But before I can answer, I feel Rafael's presence before I even see him. He's standing by the door, watching me. His face is unreadable, his jaw tense.

I stand up abruptly, suddenly feeling the weight of his stare. "I... I have to go."

I walk quickly toward the parking lot, not looking back. But as I approach my car, I see Rafael's car parked nearby. My heart skips a beat.

I turn around, not sure what to do, and there he is, Rafael. He stands still, arms crossed, waiting for me. The tension in the air is thick.

He doesn't say anything as I approach, but his eyes don't leave me. His gaze is cold, and I can feel the unspoken words between us.

"Amanda," His voice is low and controlled. "Let's go."

I nod, too exhausted to argue. I get into the car and close the door. The silence between us is suffocating.

Deja Vu.