Chapter 12 – Temporary Quiet
802 Words
Recovery felt like a cage.
“You need rest.”
“Limit stress.”
“Take your medication.”
Nia heard it all.
Ignored most of it.
Days blurred together inside the house.
Same walls.
Same silence.
Same thoughts.
The pills sat on her bedside table.
Unfinished.
She picked one up, stared at it, then dropped it back into the bottle.
“Useless.”
The knock came mid-afternoon.
Unexpected.
Nia frowned slightly, stepping out of her room.
She wasn’t expecting anyone.
By the time she reached the door, one of the staff had already opened it.
And there he was.
Rafael.
He stood there like he always did—calm, unbothered, like nothing in the world moved fast enough to reach him.
“You look worse,” he said simply.
Nia leaned lightly against the doorframe.
“Good to see you too.”
He held up a small package.
“Delivery.”
Her brows furrowed slightly. “I didn’t order anything.”
Rafael gave a small shrug. “Someone thought you might need it.”
She took it anyway.
Didn’t question it further.
“You’re not at school,” he added, glancing past her briefly.
“Doctor’s orders,” she said flatly. “Apparently I’m falling apart.”
Rafael’s gaze returned to her.
“You don’t look surprised.”
“I’m not,” she replied.
Silence settled for a moment.
Nia stepped aside slightly. “You coming in or just standing there?”
He stepped in.
The house felt different with someone else in it.
Less quiet.
Less… empty.
They moved into the living area.
Nia dropped onto the couch, the package resting loosely in her hand.
“I’m tired,” she said after a moment.
Rafael leaned back slightly in his seat. “Of what?”
“Everything,” she replied. “The pressure. The expectations. The pills they keep throwing at me like that’s supposed to fix something.”
She let out a quiet breath, running a hand through her hair.
“They don’t work.”
Rafael watched her for a second.
Thinking.
“There are other ways people try to deal with that,” he said carefully.
Nia glanced at him.
“What does that mean?”
A pause.
Then—
“I know something that can make things feel… quieter,” he said.
The word lingered.
Quieter.
Nia’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“You mean what, exactly?”
Rafael didn’t rush.
Didn’t push.
“Something people use to take the edge off,” he said. “Not a solution. Just… a break from the noise.”
Nia leaned back slightly, studying him.
Part of her already knew where this was going.
“And you think I need that?” she asked.
“I think you want it,” he replied.
Silence.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
Her gaze dropped briefly to the floor.
Then back to him.
“…What is it?”
Rafael reached into his jacket slowly, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package.
He held it out—but didn’t force it into her hand.
“Your choice,” he said.
Nia stared at it.
This was a line.
She knew that.
A clear one.
Her mind flickered—
Doctors.
Pills.
Voices.
Pressure.
The collapse.
Nothing helped.
Her fingers moved before she fully thought it through.
She took it.
That night—
The house was quiet again.
Nia sat alone, the small package resting in front of her.
She hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Then—
She tried it.
The effect wasn’t instant.
Not overwhelming.
But slowly…
Something shifted.
The tightness in her chest eased.
The noise in her head dulled.
Not gone.
Just… softer.
Her shoulders relaxed for the first time in days.
And for a brief moment—
She could breathe.
“That’s it…” she murmured quietly.
Relief.
Small.
Temporary.
But real enough to notice.
And that was all it took.
The next day—
She wanted that feeling again.
Rafael didn’t seem surprised.
“You’ll need a proper source,” he said.
Nia didn’t hesitate this time.
“Then take me to one.”
That’s how she met him.
Delgado.
He didn’t smile much.
Didn’t talk more than necessary.
But his eyes?
They calculated everything.
When he looked at Nia—
He didn’t just see a client.
He saw opportunity.
“She’ll get what she asks for,” he said simply.
Rafael nodded once.
And just like that—
It became easier.
Accessible.
Available.
At first, Nia told herself it was controlled.
Just when she needed it.
Just to quiet things down.
But deep down—
Somewhere she didn’t want to look—
She knew.
This wasn’t fixing anything.
It was just giving her a way to stop feeling it…
For a while.
And sometimes—
That was more dangerous than the pain itself.
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