Please Come Back, My Love novel Chapter 95

2:08 pm

MA

Please Come Back, My Love

Chapter 95

Our child.

The way he said it-possessive, protective-made something warm unfurl in my chest.

“Thank you, I whispered.

Julian’s eyes met mine, and for once, they weren’t cold. They were… searching.

“Elena,” he said slowly. “When you said you wanted me to trust you-”

“I meant it.” I sat up straighter. “Not just about the baby. About everything. No more assuming the worst. No more believing Victoria’s version of events without even asking mine.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

“I don’t know if I know how to do that,” he admitted. “Trust doesn’t… come easily to me.”

7

“Then learn.”

The words came out sharper than I intended. But fuck it. I was tired. Tired of being doubted, questioned, treated like some manipulative gold-digger when

all I’d ever done was love him.

Julian stood abruptly, moving to the window. His back was rigid.

“My whole life,” he said quietly, “I’ve been taught to question everything. Trust is weakness in my world. It’s how you get destroyed.”

“I’m not your world,” I shot back. “I’m your wife. And if you can’t trust me-if you can’t even try-then what the hell are we doing?”

He spun around, and the look on his face made my breath catch.

Raw. Vulnerable. Terrified.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said hoarsely. “Or the baby. I know I’ve been shit at showing it, but-” He broke off, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck. I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Care about someone more than myself.”

The admission hung in the air between us.

I should’ve been angry. Should’ve told him it was too little, too late.

Instead, I held out my hand.

“Come here.”

He crossed the room slowly, sinking onto the edge of my hospital bed.

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2:08 pm

Chapter 95

MA

You dont have to be perfect; I said quietly. “You just have to try. Really try.”

Julian’s hand found my stomach again, palmy warm through the thin hospital gown.

‘I will,” he promised. “I swear to God, Elena, I’ll try.”

His forehead dropped to rest against mine, and I let my eyes close.

Maybe I was an idiot. Maybe this would all blow up in my face agains

But for now, in this moment, I chose to believe him.

Two days later, we went home.

The penthouse felt different somehow. Less like a prison, more like… something I couldn’t quite name yet.

Julian helped me settle onto the couch, propping pillows behind my back like I was made of glass.

“I’m not that fragile,” I protested.

“Humor me.”

4

2

Over the next few weeks, something shifted between us.

Julian came home every night after work. Actually came home for dinner. We’d eat together, making awkward small talk about our days.

Sometimes he’d ask about my design work. I’d

Other times, he’d tell me about board

Sketching again, tentative ideas for a new collection.

meetin

s, merger

negotiations, the endless politics of running Sterling Conglomerate.

He’d meet every request I made-bringing home weird pregnancy cravings, rubbing my feet when they swelled, holding my hair back when morning sickness

hit.

Slowly, carefully, we were learning each other.

It wasn’t love. Not yet.

But it was… something.

One evening, about three weeks after the hospital, Julian found me sketching in bed.

“You miss it,” he said. Not a question.

“Yeah. I do.”

Γ

He sat on the edge of the bed. “For now, just focus on taking care of yourself and the baby. Your position at the company-I’m keeping it for you. Whenever you’re ready to come back.”

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