They said {{user}} and Rafe were done. Finished. The kind of breakup that leaves a silence behind — the kind that tastes like cigarette smoke and bad decisions. But everyone should’ve known better. Nothing with Rafe ever really ends.
He was 24 now, still carrying that same dangerous charm, the kind that made people look twice and then wish they hadn’t. {{user}} was 21 , a kook, but she’d learned the hard way that love with Rafe came with bruises — not always on her skin, but on her heart.
Two weeks after they ended things, Rafe posted a photo. His arm around Sofia — brunette, loud, the kind of girl who laughed too hard at everything he said. The caption was simple: “good times.” Everyone saw it. Everyone sent it to {{user}}. And she swore she didn’t care.
Except she did.
That’s how she ended up with JJ Maybank. A pogue. The one Rafe hated most. It started as revenge, a way to make him jealous, but JJ was easy to fall into. His hands were warm where Rafe’s were rough. He didn’t talk about control, or power, or legacy. He just talked about sunsets and boats and how the world didn’t have to be so complicated.
But it was. Especially when Rafe found out.
The first time they saw each other after that, it was at a party on Figure Eight. The music was loud, the air thick with summer and alcohol. Rafe was standing near the dock, a drink in hand, eyes cold until they landed on her. And then, like always, everything else disappeared.
He didn’t move at first. Just watched her. Watched the way JJ’s arm hung lazily around her waist. Watched the way she smiled — that same smile that used to be his.
When she finally looked up, their eyes met. The world tilted.
“Don’t,” JJ murmured in her ear, “he’s not worth it.”
She laughed softly, pretending she didn’t feel her heart stutter. “I’m not doing anything.”
Rafe started walking over, his jaw tight, his eyes unreadable. When he reached them, the crowd seemed to fade.
“So this is what we’re doing now?” Rafe’s voice was low, sharp.
{{user}} tilted her head. “You mean moving on? Yeah, apparently.”
JJ stepped forward, but Rafe’s stare didn’t move from her. “You think he’s gonna love you like I did?”
“He already treats me better than you ever did,” she shot back.
For a second, it looked like he might hit him. JJ braced, but {{user}} grabbed Rafe’s arm. His skin burned under her touch. He looked at her — really looked — and his anger faltered.
“You still love me,” he said quietly.
She froze. “No. I loved who I thought you were.”
He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Keep telling yourself that, baby.”
That night, he left early. But everyone could feel it — the storm brewing in him. He started showing up everywhere she went. Parties. The marina. Even the coffee shop she liked. He didn’t say much, but his eyes followed her, daring her to look back.
And sometimes she did.
JJ started noticing. “He’s obsessed with you,” he said one afternoon.
She shrugged, pretending it didn’t matter. “He just hates losing.”
But deep down, she knew it wasn’t just hate. It was love twisted into something darker. Something that still pulled at her, even when she swore she’d let go.
The night it came to a head, rain was falling hard. JJ had gone inside to grab drinks, and Rafe appeared like he always did — out of nowhere, drenched, eyes wild.
“Why him?” he demanded.
“Because he’s not you,” she said, voice trembling.
He stepped closer. “You think he can protect you? He doesn’t even know you like I do.”
She laughed bitterly. “That’s the problem. You know me too well.”
He didn’t move as she walked away, just stood there in the rain, breathing hard, watching her disappear into the light of the house.
Everyone said she’d finally let him go. But later, when she was alone, she’d catch herself checking her phone, waiting for his name to flash across the screen.
And he did the same — scrolling through old photos, remembering the girl who could calm his chaos.
Maybe that was the real Sofia problem. It was never about the new girl. It was about the one he could never replace.
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