The bar.
We slowed.
Ramiro guided me toward a seat.
I felt the edge of a stool beneath my hand before I sat, the surface smooth and cool.
I lowered myself carefully.
The noise wrapped around me immediately.
Closer and more intense.
But not overwhelming.
It was almost... numbing.
Exactly what I needed.
Or what I thought I needed.
My fingers rested lightly on the counter in front of me, tracing the edge unconsciously.
The wood—or stone—was polished, expensive, untouched by wear.
I exhaled slowly.
Seven months.
I repeated it in my mind like a structure I could hold onto.
Seven months until the internship ended.
Seven months until I walked away from his world.
Seven months to prepare Tess.
Seven months to detach.
Seven months to accept what I had been trying not to see—that I would never be more to Rafael than Tess’s caregiver.
I straightened slightly, forcing my expression into something neutral even though no one could see it.
Ramiro lingered beside me.
I could feel it immediately—that protective hesitation.
His presence hovered too close, like a shadow unsure whether it belonged.
I turned my face slightly toward him.
“Ramiro,” I said evenly, though fatigue edged my voice, “please give me a little space. I know you think I might not be safe on my own, but I’ll be fine. I just need a moment to clear my head. With you hovering like this, it’s harder than it needs to be.”
There was a pause.
Then his voice came, lower than before.
“Rafael wouldn’t be pleased if I brought you to a place like this and didn’t keep my eyes on you the entire time.”
