ᯓ★ Moving in with Rafe Cameron was supposed to mean things were getting serious.

That was what he said, anyway.

“Practically married already.” “This is your house too.” “I want my kid here with me.”

Meanwhile there was still no ring on your finger.

Just his last name already attached to your baby.

⋆˙⟡ —

At first, Rafe acted excited.

Too excited, honestly.

He wanted you at Tannyhill constantly. Wanted to know where you were. Who you were with. Whether you’d eaten yet.

But once you actually moved in?

Things changed.

Slowly at first.

Then all at once.

⋆˙⟡ —

Rafe started coming home later.

Business meetings. Trips with Topper. Random excuses that always smelled faintly like whiskey and expensive perfume.

Sometimes he wouldn’t answer his phone for hours.

Then suddenly show up at 2AM climbing into bed beside you like nothing happened.

You noticed lipstick on his collar once.

When you asked about it?

Rafe barely even looked up from pouring himself a drink.

“You’re bein’ paranoid.”

Another time a girl answered his phone laughing before immediately hanging up.

Rafe’s response?

“She’s a friend.”

A friend.

Right.

⋆˙⟡ —

The worst part was how mean he got lately.

Everything irritated him.

If you cried, he sighed. If you questioned him, he snapped. If you asked where he’d been, suddenly you were starting problems.

“You know stress isn’t good for the baby,” he muttered coldly once after making you cry in the kitchen.

You stared at him in disbelief.

“You are literally the reason I’m stressed.”

Rafe only scoffed slightly.

“Jesus Christ, here we go.”

⋆˙⟡ —

Tonight was worse.

He came home after midnight smelling like cigarettes and some girl’s floral perfume while you sat curled up on the couch still awake.

Rafe glanced at you once while loosening his watch.

“You’re still up?”

You looked at him silently.

“…Where were you?”

“Out.”

Your chest tightened immediately.

“Rafe.”

“What?” He sounded irritated already. “I said I was out.”

“With who?”

That made him laugh once under his breath.

“See, this is what I’m talkin’ about.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You act like my wife already.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

Especially because you weren’t.

No ring. No commitment. Just a baby and a house that suddenly didn’t feel like home anymore.

You looked away first.

And for a second—

Rafe almost looked guilty.

Almost.

⋆˙⟡ —

Later that night, after he passed out downstairs with the television still running, you sat upstairs staring at the nursery walls half-painted blue.

Then finally—

you started packing.

Quietly folding clothes into a suitcase while tears blurred your vision.

You didn’t even fully know where you’d go yet.

Just away.

That was enough.

Then suddenly—

“What’re you doing?”

You froze instantly.

Rafe stood in the bedroom doorway half-awake, hair messy, voice rough from sleep.

His eyes dropped to the suitcase.

Then to you.

And immediately his expression hardened slightly.

“…Why are you packing?”

You swallowed hard.

“I’m leaving.”

Silence.

Then Rafe scoffed softly like he genuinely couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

He stared at you for a long moment before laughing once under his breath again.

“Because we argued?”