Please Come Back, My Love novel Chapter 65

Please Come Back, My Love

hapter 65

Elena: POV

1 woke up the next morning with Julian’s arm still wrapped around my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck.

“I can’t be without you anymore.”

His words from last night echoed in my head. Not I love you. Not I choose you. Just… I can’t be without you.

Like I was a habit he couldn’t break. An addiction he couldn’t quit. He might be addicted to me, but probably just addicted to my body. The thought tasted bitter in my mouth.

I stared at the pale morning light filtering through the curtains, feeling the weight of his arm across my stomach-protective and possessive all at once.

Does love even matter that much? Yes. Yes, it fucking did.

But I didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. Just lay there, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back, wondering how much longer I could keep doing this.

2

Wondering how much longer until he realizes he doesn’t actually need me at all.

Something felt off. Julian’s body was too still, too tense. Like he’d been awake for a while.

I shifted slightly, and his arm tightened around me.

“You’re awake,’ I said quietly.

A pause. Then: “Yeah.”

His voice was rough, but not with sleep. With something else. Stress, maybe. Or guilt.

I turned in his arms to face him, and that’s when I saw his phone on the nightstand, screen still glowing. His jaw was tight, his gray eyes shadowed.

“How long have you been up?”

*Julian-

“Please.” His eyes searched mine, and I saw that desperate hope again. “I know yesterday was rough. But she’s reaching out now. She’s trying. Doesn’t that count for something?”

No. It doesn’t. Because I know exactly what this is.

But looking at his face-seeing how badly he wanted this to work, how much he needed me to make peace with his mother-I felt my resistance crumbling.

He was asking me to be the bigger person. To overlook the humiliation, the insults, the fucking check his mother had slid across the table like I was some kind of prostitute,

All because he couldn’t stand the idea of being caught between his mother and his… what? His wife? His obligation?

His possession.

“She’s my mother,” Julian said again, softer this time. “And you’re my wife. I need you two to at least try to get along. For me. For our family.”