Three Years Later, He Came Back Begging novel Chapter 181

Bonnie was so drunk she could barely think straight, but some part of her was still hanging on. She pointed up at the ceiling, her speech slurred. “But… I’m home... Lawrence, there’s water leaking through my roof.”

“It’ll be fixed tomorrow.” Lawrence’s voice caught, thick with emotion as he ran his fingers through her wet hair, gently rubbing her ear.

Everything about this felt startlingly real. Ever since their breakup three years ago, Bonnie had kept having dreams like this. In those dreams, Lawrence had never left her. He was always there, her knight, loyal and brave.

Just like right now. With him around, nothing seemed scary.

“Lawrence, my head hurts.” She winced.

“I’ll rub it for you.”

“My stomach’s upset too...”

Lawrence pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his palm sliding to rest lightly on her stomach.

Bonnie’s eyes filled with tears. “My ear hurts too, Lawrence. They hit me, and they called me names... They said I was the other woman.”

Lawrence’s breath shuddered. “That’s not true. Should I go talk to them?”

Bonnie just nodded, then suddenly collapsed into his arms. She gripped his shirt tight and sobbed, her cries bursting out like a little kid who lost her favorite treat, heartbreak and helplessness all tangled together.

Her crying ripped straight through Lawrence’s heart. He held her close and covered her ears, trying to muffle the world for her. Her voice was muffled and fractured, tangled up in pain and sorrow.

She whispered, “Lawrence, how could you leave me?”

That old, familiar loss of control shot through Lawrence. His arms around her trembled, and tears rolled down his cheeks, soaking her hair.

He fetched a mug of warm water, and when he returned, he helped Bonnie sit up. She was half-asleep, still drunk, wobbling in his arms. She managed a few sips before collapsing back onto the bed and sinking into sleep.

Lawrence sat heavily on the floor beside the bed, silent. He couldn’t even figure out where he hurt. It just felt like everything was wrong. After a while, he pressed his head into the sharp corner of the nightstand.

Every time he hit it, the pain almost drowned out everything else.

He didn’t stop until blood was trickling down his forehead and stinging his eyelashes. Everything was tinted red.

Still, it wasn’t enough. Lawrence couldn’t help it; he pictured the corner as a knife instead. If he just stabbed himself, maybe all the discomfort would vanish.

His eyes landed on the coffee table, littered with empty bottles and cans. Right next to them was a sharp fruit knife.