Please Come Back, My Love novel Chapter 345

Chapter 345

Sophia’s POV

I woke to silence.

The bed beside me was empty, the sheets cool to the touch. Lucas was gone-had been for a while, judging by how cold the mattress felt when I pressed my palm against it.

For a moment I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe without feeling like my ribs were caving in.

Then I saw the note.

It was propped against the lamp on the nightstand, folded once, my name written across the front in Lucas’s sharp, precise handwriting. Next to it sat a black American Express card, gleaming dully in the morning light.

I reached for the note with shaking fingers.

[Fia,

Take the day. Rest. Explore the city if you want-the card has no limit. I’ll pick you up at eight for dinner.

Don’t make me come looking for you.

-L]

I read it twice, then a third time, searching for the trap hidden in those clipped sentences.

Don’t make me come looking for you.

So this was freedom, Lucas-style. A leash long enough to let me think I could run, but with a chain at the end to yank me back if I tried.

I grabbed the card, shoved the note in the trash, and headed for the shower.

Paris in the daylight was almost enough to make me forget.

Almost.

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12:26 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 345

I walked for hours, letting my feet carry me wherever they wanted. Past the Louvre with its glass pyramid glittering in the sun.

Along the Seine, where street artists sold paintings of the Eiffel Tower and lovers kissed on benches.

Through narrow streets lined with cafés that smelled like butter and coffee and something sweet I couldn’t name.

I bought a croissant from a boulangerie and ate it on the steps of Sacré-Coeur, watching tourists take selfies and pigeons fight over

crumbs.

The pastry was warm and flaky and melted on my tongue, and for a few minutes-just a few-I let myself pretend I was a normal girl on a normal trip, with nothing heavier on my mind than what to see next.

But the pretending only lasted so long.

By the time I made it to the Tuileries Garden, the sun was high and hot, and the lightness I’d felt earlier had started to curdle into something darker.

I found a bench in the shade and sat down, pulling my knees up to my chest.

The garden was full of people. Families with strollers. Couples holding hands. Old men reading newspapers. Everyone moving through their lives like it was easy, like the world wasn’t designed to crush you the second you let your guard down.

I watched them, and I felt nothing.

Not envy. Not anger. Just… emptiness.

What was I even doing here? Playing tourist while my parents rotted in that house? While Lucas’s baby grew inside me, a ticking clock I

couldn’t stop?

I pressed my forehead to my knees and closed my eyes.

You’re going to get through this, I told myself. You always do.

But I didn’t believe it anymore.

I slid off the bench and sank down onto the gravel path, my back against the bench’s legs, my arms wrapped around my knees. People walked past me-some glanced, most didn’t-and I didn’t care. Let them think I was drunk or crazy or both. Let them think whatever they

wanted.

I was so tired of pretending I wasn’t falling apart.

“Excusez-moi, madame?”

I looked up.

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