The door creaked open as Rafael stepped into his room. It was just as he had left it earlier. He quickly tidied up a few things before shedding his clothes and heading into the bathroom.
After a quick, refreshing shower, Rafael emerged and slipped into a light dress. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he grabbed his phone and opened his documents.
His mind wandered to his plan. After convincing Don Mateo, the second mafia boss, that he could be their spy in Marco's mansion, Rafael had meticulously plotted how he would stay under the radar.
But this mission wasn't solely about espionage. He genuinely wanted to help Marco. After extensive research and tracking the movements of the mafia bosses, he had uncovered the illness that plagued Marco and the misguided ways he'd been treating it.
That's why Rafael had been thrilled when they accepted his proposal to come and treat Marco. This was his chance to help, perhaps even save Marco while staying on track with his mission.
"I'll need to examine him first to gauge the severity of his condition," Rafael muttered to himself, outlining his next steps.
"Hey, Louis…" he said into the phone after dialing his friend's number.
"Hi, what's up?" Louis's voice was bright, lifting the tension Rafael had been feeling.
"I need your help," Rafael replied, his voice strained with the weight of his request.
________________
As the clock neared 8 p.m., Rafael left his room, phone in hand, after finishing his conversation with Louis. Whatever they discussed remained a secret.
He descended the corridor toward the sitting room and dining area, which were located downstairs.
The mansion, a sprawling structure, was still largely unexplored by Rafael. Apart from his own room, there were numerous others on the same floor, hinting at the presence of other inhabitants.
Reaching the dining table, Rafael took a seat. His eyes wandered, taking in the grand yet cozy atmosphere of the room. Off to the side, an open kitchen revealed staff bustling as they prepared the evening meal.
It wasn't long before Marco arrived, his presence announced by the sound of his footsteps and a low murmur of conversation with his subordinates. He took his seat with an air of authority, his gaze sharp.
"Good evening, Don," Rafael greeted him, his voice steady despite the underlying tension.
"Evening to you. How are you feeling today?" Marco asked, his tone measured, though his eyes flickered to his phone in the corner of his vision.
"I'm… good, I guess," Rafael replied, shifting slightly as the chefs finished up and began serving.
"And you? How are you feeling?" Rafael asked, slipping into his doctor persona, his professional concern masking the personal tension simmering between them.
Marco's gaze lingered on Rafael, his voice sultry as he responded with a soft smile, "I'm good, thank you…"
"It's what I should do as your doctor; ask about your health," Rafael said, his spoon clinking against his plate as he continued eating.
Marco glanced at him briefly, the reply forming in his mind, but he kept his attention on his phone.
"When did your insomnia start?" Rafael asked, pulling out a notebook and pen, ready to jot down notes.
Marco's focus shifted from his phone, his gaze settling on Rafael as he probed him with his eyes before replying, "When my dad died."
As Marco spoke, he noticed Rafael writing in the notebook, muttering to himself, "That was twelve years ago, when he was eighteen"
Marco's ears caught the words, and it surprised him.
How does he know the exact timing? Has he been keeping tabs on me? Marco wondered, watching Rafael from the corner of his eye, contemplating his next question or move.
"When you finish the day's work and prepare to sleep, what do you experience that makes you resist sleep?" Rafael asked, his eyes sharp, intent on catching any subtle hint.
Marco's curiosity was piqued again as he was left wondering.
Is he trying to diagnose me and uncover my illness? Is he really that skilled? Intrigued by Rafael's approach, Marco thought, putting his phone aside, his attention fully on Rafael.
He hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I... I'm not really sure how to explain it, but I'll say it like this: When I'm about to sleep, I feel a sense of guilt, like I shouldn't be alive in this world while all my other family members are dead. It's as if I don't deserve to live, and it makes it hard to sleep as the scenes of my parents' deaths replay in my mind."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Rafael said gently, still making notes. "But I'd say you shouldn't let those thoughts weigh you down. I'm sure your parents would be happy that one of them survived. They would want you to live well, not struggle to sleep every day."
"Thanks for that," Marco replied, his eyes still fixed on Rafael, waiting for more. Rafael raised his head, about to speak again, but then paused.
Rafael's face grew warm as he realized Marco's intense focus on him. Marco was watching his every move, searching for something, and that awareness made Rafael self-conscious.
He cleared his throat softly to diffuse the heat in the air before asking, with a slight stutter, "Do you...have any unresolved issues with someone related to your...parents' deaths?"
The question caused Marco's expression to harden, his hands clenching into fists.
He replied with just one word, "No."
But Rafael knew he was lying; he could tell what Marco was really supposed to say.
Sensing the tension his question had brought, Rafael decided to pause the interrogation, letting them concentrate on their meal, though he struggled to find a way to switch the topic.
But then Marco spoke again, "Even though you're a doctor and a good one, it seems I wouldn't advise you to waste your time on this."
His tone shifted to a teasing lilt as he added, "I wouldn't want my personal doctor to become overwhelmed with work when there are other… important matters to attend to."