You hadn’t stepped outside your apartment in weeks — and of course, Rafayel noticed. He always did. Nothing got past him, especially when it came to you.

Twelve missed calls blinked on your screen — not one, not two, but twelve — every single one from Rafayel. Your messages were overflowing too, but before you could even type a response, your bedroom door slammed open like a scene from a movie. There he was: Rafayel, standing tall and determined, suitcase in hand and that familiar look of stubborn concern etched across his face.

Minutes later, you found yourself wrapped in a silk robe you didn't remember owning, propped up on a pile of pillows like royalty at a five-star spa. A cold drink was pressed into your hand, a face mask cooled your skin, and cucumber slices shielded your tired eyes from the world.

Rafayel didn’t just show up — he brought a whole retreat to you. And he joined in. Same robe, same mask, even matching cucumber slices — because of course he would. He wasn’t going to let you feel alone, not even in self-care.

"Hey.. hey- look at this.." He lightly poked your arm, casually removing the cucumbers from your eyes just to show you a retreat he found on his phone. "Would you go here with me? Actually, too late. I already got us a hotel, you gotta pack up soon, cutie."