Miranda didn't expect the message to come so soon.
She had barely changed out of her clothes, barely put her hair up in a loose bun, barely told herself she wouldn't think about him,
when her phone buzzed.
Her stomach dropped.
Her pulse quickened.
She had a sneaking suspicion who it was before she even touched the phone.
She stood there, frozen in the middle of her bedroom, staring at the notification glowing softly through the screen.
Raphael:
Are you home safe?
A Simple, polite and warm text.
But her body reacted as though he had whispered something sinful directly into her ear.
She swallowed hard, her eyes narrowing, should she reply?
She shouldn't but since she's already given him her number so why not, why was she even trying to resist it?
She remembered she had promised herself she would keep distance after what happened. After how easily she had given in.
After how she woke dripping from dreams she couldn't confess to a single soul.
She locked the phone and tossed it on the bed.
Then stood there, staring at it.
Her mind whispered loudly: Just ignore him, it's still not too late.
Her heart whispered seductively: But you don't want to.
She walked away. Came back. Sat down. stood again.
Her entire body was restless. Finally, defeated, she snatched up the phone and typed:
Miranda:
Yes. I'm fine. Thank you.
She pressed send before she could stop herself.
Immediately, she closed her eyes in resignation.
"God help me " Miranda breathed out.
The phone buzzed again.
Raphael:
Good. I was worried.
You rushed away today.
Her cheeks flamed. She had no idea that he actually noticed that.
She could still feel the dream lingering in her muscles, the ghost of him, the fantasy of him.
Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard.
Miranda:
I didn't rush. I just had something important to attend to.
The lie felt flimsy.
He replied instantly.
Raphael:
And here I was, thinking you were avoiding me.
Your not gonna abandon me after yesterday, are you? I don't think my fragile heart can handle that. But… It's okay. I just want you to be comfortable.
Something inside her softened painfully.
He revealed both interest and vulnerability, but wasn't being pushy about it, yet she felt torn. Though she longed to resist, his words pulled at her emotions, leaving her to wonder whether his intent was sincere or simply playful.
And that made everything harder.
Miranda:
I appreciate you saying that, but you're not exactly that easy to get rid of. Yesterday was… intense, and I'm still sorting through how I feel.
I'm not promising anything but why don't we just go with the flow, get to know each other first and see how things go.
She froze, horrified she'd sent something that honest. Its amazing how confident one can become once they hide behind a keyboard.
Before she could regret it,
Raphael:
I understand that too.
Going with the flow sounds perfect… though I have to admit, I'm hoping the flow keeps bringing me your way.
A gentle smile finally touched Miranda's lips, and the tension that had hung between her and Raphael seemed to dissolve. Just as she was starting to believe she might not feel so uneasy around him, the Hallway door creaked open in the distance.
"Miranda?" Ben's voice drifted in from the Hallway. "Are you home?"
Her entire body tensed.
Guilt slammed back into her so violently she nearly dropped the phone.
She shut the screen quickly, her heart pounding.
"Yes!" she called out. "I'm in the bedroom!"
She forced her feet to move, stepping out to greet her husband.
Ben smiled at her, tired and soft. He leaned in for a kiss, gentle, familiar, predictable.
She let him kiss her.
But inside, she felt her skin crawl, she no longer craved his touch as it now felt unnecessary.
"How was your day?" he asked.
"Fine," she said too quickly.
He didn't notice.
He never noticed.
Or maybe he trusted her too much to imagine anything else.
That trust stabbed her deeper than any accusation could have.
Benjamin walked past her, humming softly as he dropped his bag and headed to the shower.
Miranda stood there, frozen in place.
Should she delete the messages?
Block Raphael.
End this whole disaster before it spiraled again.
But her hand slowly, shamefully, slipped back into her pocket.
She looked at the screen.
"No new message."
Disappointment pricked her chest and she hated it.
_________________
Hours after Benjamin fell asleep, Miranda lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
Her thoughts were loud and her body was restless.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the studio again, smelled the faint chemicals and his cologne and felt the texture of his hands around her waist.
She squeezed her thighs together, ashamed at the heat returning.
Then her phone buzzed under her pillow. Her heart jumped.
Raphael:
Goodnight, Miranda.
Thank you for replying today.
She looked by her side, to make sure her husband was still asleep then she returned her gaze to her phone, her fingers typed slowly and hesitantly:
Miranda:
Goodnight, Adrian.
She hesitated. Then,
Miranda:
Till next time.
She waited, breath caught in her chest.
The reply came seconds later.
Raphael:
Alright,
Chat me up, whenever you want to talk.
Or not talk.
Miranda felt her heart was filled with a strange feeling she could not describe. She's been married to Ben for years, but they don't even chat in this manner, like friends.
Her husband loved her.
Yes.
But Benjamin loved the fake version of her he believed existed, not the restless, yearning, aching person inside her, He never knew who she really was because she had never felt comfortable enough to act like herself around him, anytime she slipped up, Benjamin might jokingly or nonchalantly tell his mom about it later in the future and his mom would come back to chastise her.
She typed back:
Miranda:
Haha, noted.
Then she set the phone aside, turned her face into the pillow, and cried silently,
from guilt, from fear of the unknown future and from a longing she couldn't kill no matter how hard she tried.
—------------
Throughout the following month, the distance between them evaporated entirely. Raphael and Miranda called each other constantly, their text threads growing longer by the day, and they eventually reached the stage of trading daily selfies—silly ones from his studio, tired ones from behind her counter. Because of it, Miranda naturally felt closer to him than she had to anyone in years. Their subsequent secret meetings lost their sharp edge of panic; the awkwardness was gone, replaced by a comfortable, addictive rhythm.
When she saw Raphael again the following afternoon, it was purely by chance. She was wiping down the front tables when she caught sight of him across the street, passing by the café to enter a hardware store.
An instant jolt of excitement rushed through her. Miranda leaned against the glass, silently hoping he would cross the asphalt and drop by. Thinking back to how she used to handle him, she felt a flush of mild embarrassment. The mere thought of his presence used to make her so shy her chest would ache. She remembered how she couldn't look him in the eye, how desperately she had tried to avoid him.
Now? Not only was she actively looking forward to his visits, but she genuinely thrived in his company.
Did I really behave like that? she wondered, shaking her head at her own reflection in the window, she walked back to the counter. She couldn't believe she had acted like such an inexperienced child. Honestly, she was surprised Raphael had even put up with her. Thinking about it now with a clear head, if she had been in Raphael's shoes, dealing with her constant push-and-pull, she would have given up a long time ago.
"How is business?"
The deep, familiar voice abruptly brought her back to the present. Miranda blinked, startled. Raphael was already standing at the counter right in front of her. Too engrossed in her own thoughts, she hadn't even heard the bell above the door chime when he entered.
"Afternoon, Ralph," Miranda said, a bright, easy smile breaking across her face as she stepped behind the espresso machine. "Business will get better with your patronage."
Raphael laughed, the sound rich and warm. "I swear, sometimes it feels like you're only nice to me so I'll keep buying out your cafe."
"What do you mean?" Miranda pouted, crossing her arms playfully. "What if it's also because I actually like your company?"
Raphael feigned absolute shock, widening his eyes. "I never thought I'd live to see the day when you admit that you enjoy my company." He placed his right hand dramatically over his heart, teasing her. "That means so much to me, Miranda. Truly."
"No way!" Miranda laughed, grabbing a clean linen napkin from the stack and throwing it playfully at his chest. "What I meant to say is that your company is very enriching for the cafe. Literally. As in financially. So, who wouldn't like a customer like that?"
"Alright, alright," Raphael raised both hands in a mock surrender, trapping the napkin against his shirt before setting it on the counter. His voice dropped slightly, losing its teasing edge and becoming something softer. "I love your company too."
Miranda paused what she was doing, her fingers freezing over the coffee grinder. She looked up. Raphael was watching her, giving her a slow, deliberate wink as a grin spread across his face.
Her cheeks flushed crimson instantly. She looked away, pretending to suddenly be very interested in the espresso cups, her heart doing a familiar, wild flip. He had definitely said that on purpose—and God help her, she loved it.
Miranda carefully placed his usual drink on the counter, her eyes fixed firmly on the ceramic cup to avoid the magnetic pull of his gaze.
But Raphael didn't just take the coffee. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the polished wood, his voice dropping to a gentle, irresistible register. "Miranda… look at me."
She did.
Slowly.
It was entirely impossible to resist him when he spoke to her like that. When her eyes finally met his, the teasing smirk he had worn a moment ago was completely gone. His eyes softened at the sight of her, holding her gaze with an intensity that made the rest of the cafe disappear.
"I like this confident version of you more," he said softly.
Her throat tightened, a sudden wave of vulnerability catching her off guard. She hated how easily he could see right through her defenses, yet she craved it. "What do you mean?" she muttered, looking down for a split second before forcing her eyes back to his. "I've always been confident."
Raphael smiled faintly, a look of pure fondness crossing his face. He didn't call her out on the lie. "Right. And I would like for you to remain like this around me," he said, his tone dripping with a quiet sincerity that made her chest ache.
Her face burned hotter, the blush spreading down her neck. She felt entirely exposed, stripped of the rigid "business owner" persona she usually wore like armor. "Alright," she whispered, the word barely catching the air.
"I'm not trying to tease you," he replied, his thumb tracing the rim of his cup, though his eyes never left hers. "I just… like seeing you, this human, this real."
This real. The words echoed in her mind. With her husband and their families, every interaction felt calculated and always acted within expectations. But here, under Raphael's gaze, she didn't have to be a bridge between two great families. She just had to be herself.
She swallowed hard, unable to find her voice.
Sensing the depth of the moment, Raphael gave her a small, reassuring nod. He picked up his cup, backward-stepping toward the door. "I need to go to work," he added quietly, his eyes lingering on her one last time. "Text me later, okay?"
"Okay," she murmured.
He turned and walked out into the afternoon sun. Miranda stood behind the counter, a lingering warmth in her chest as she raised her hand and waved goodbye to him through the glass, already counting down the hours until she could text him.