Page 187 of Wrong Marriage. Right Groom
My body felt heavy, like I was sinking into the hospital bed rather than lying on top of it.
Every limb carried the dull weight of anesthesia.
My tongue was dry, my throat tight, and there was a strange distance between my thoughts and my ability to act on them.
I had agreed to it—the eye surgery.
And now I was here.
In the recovery space. The procedure already done.
That realization settled cautiously, like something fragile I was afraid to touch too quickly in case it shattered.
My eyes remained tightly shut, my lashes pressed firmly together, as if holding back whatever waited on the other side.
My fingers twitched slightly against the bedsheet, gripping the fabric.
It was crisp and real.
A week ago, I hadn’t even believed I would be here.
I had resisted for so long.
But then... that night.
The night I broke.
The memory of Rafael’s arms around me surfaced—firm, steady. He hadn’t spoken much, but he hadn’t let go either.
For the first time in a long time, I hadn’t felt alone in the dark.
Something in me had shifted after that.
The darkness stopped feeling like protection.
It started feeling like a cage.
And I couldn’t breathe in it anymore.
I wanted more.
I wanted to see Tess’s face when she laughed instead of imagining it from the sound of her voice.
I wanted to know what the sky looked like now, whether it still felt as endless as I remembered.
And... if I allowed myself to be honest—
I wanted to see him.
Rafael.
The man who existed for me only in fragments—his voice, deep and controlled.
The faint, clean scent that lingered whenever he was close.
The rare, deliberate touches that always felt more intentional than accidental.
I wanted to put a face to the man who had somehow found his way past every wall I had built.
