Page 181 of Wrong Marriage. Right Groom
Just enduring.
Rafael’s grip tightened fractionally, like a reminder that he was still there. Still listening. Still refusing to let me drift away into my own thoughts.
“And you deserve more than survival,” he added.
Everything about him—his reputation, the man who had once ordered me to kneel in the snow until I collapsed, the man who spoke of killing as easily as breathing—clashed violently with the one holding my hands as though they mattered.
He spoke of my life like it had value.
My body betrayed me again, leaning subtly toward his warmth without permission.
I hated that instinct. Hated how natural it felt to move closer to someone I should have been afraid of.
In truth, not being able to see had limited me in ways I rarely allowed myself to fully examine.
The world had become a series of careful calculations—distance measured in sound, space judged by instinct, trust placed in what others said was in front of me.
Even the simplest things required negotiation with uncertainty.
Confidence, too, had changed shape. It was no longer something I could rely on instinctively; it had to be built, step by step, without sight to reassure me I was right.
Without sight, I was always a step behind a world that assumed I could still see what it expected of me.
And yet...
For the first time, I found myself thinking beyond survival.
I wanted to see him.
Rafael. Tess. The house he had brought me into.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I could not keep living as though punishment was the only way to answer what had been done to me.
My father’s crimes were not mine to carry in this way—not until they erased everything else I could still become.
I had been in darkness long enough that it should have felt familiar by now. Maybe even safe.
“I’m scared...” I whispered, my voice trembling. “If I regain my sight, those memories will come back stronger. And when they do... they bring thoughts I can’t control.”
My breath hitched.
“I’m afraid it will make everything worse.”
Rafael moved instantly.
Strong arms pulled me into him, cutting through my spiral before it could deepen further.
One arm wrapped securely around my back while the other slid up, cradling the back of my head with a firmness that wasn’t rough—but absolute.
I froze for a second in shock.
Then my body collapsed into him without permission.
His hand began slow, steady movements along my spine—up and down in a rhythm so deliberate it almost felt practiced.
Like he understood exactly where tension gathered and how to dissolve it without asking.
“You will never have to experience that again,” he said quietly.
