Three Years Later, He Came Back Begging novel Chapter 43

Lawrence was soaked. The rain clung to him, water dripping from his hair onto Bonnie’s spotless floors. He didn’t care that he was making a mess. In his hands were medicine and a glass of water as he lowered himself onto one knee in front of her.

“Take your medicine, please,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Will you do it?”

Bonnie stared down at him from above. It had been three years since she’d seen him last, and he was different now. Gone was that cocky, reckless spark in his eyes.

The suit was wrinkled, the shirt clinging to him with rain, dark hair hanging over his forehead, and he just looked… lost. Small, somehow.

Back when he tried to give her pills and she refused, he’d already knelt like this before. First, he’d try to coax a smile or a joke out of her. If it didn’t work, he’d run out of patience and force her to take the medicine, even holding her close and feeding her sips of water himself.

Thinking of it now, her heart cracked wide open. It hurt so badly she thought she might not be able to breathe.

For a split second, Bonnie almost believed those last three awful years hadn’t happened at all. That Lawrence was still the same guy who watched over her, always putting her first.

Not the man who clung to another woman, shoved her away, and told her she was boring.

Gritting her teeth and fighting back tears, Bonnie shoved his hand away. She didn’t bother to say a word.

Lawrence knew her too well. When Bonnie got like this, there was nothing anyone could do to calm her down. He could only lower his voice and beg, “Don’t do this to yourself. I’ll just leave the medicine here. When I’m gone, please… take it.”

Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t answer.

Lawrence set the glass and pills on the table. He looked at her face, pale as paper, and his chest tightened. He glanced around the apartment. Everything was lined up neat and tidy, not a thing out of place.

He tried to say something. “Our old place—"

Bonnie’s temper broke. She raised her voice. “Get out.”

Bonnie fished her ID from her purse and handed it over. “I don’t know him.”

Lawrence said nothing. He didn’t even try to explain himself.

The officer, whose name tag read Aiken, glanced at Bonnie. “Just so you know, lying to the police carries consequences. But either way, whether you know him or you don’t, if there’s been any harassment, we’ll take care of it.”

Bonnie didn’t know how the officer could tell, but after a few seconds, she admitted, “We do know each other. But he’s been harassing me.”

Lawrence’s jaw clenched. He never thought “harassment” would be a word used to describe anything between him and Bonnie.

Aiken watched the two of them for a moment, turning Bonnie’s ID in his hand. On it was a photo of her years ago, smiling, ponytail swinging, full of life. Somehow, it lined up with the memory he had of her—on that snowy hill, refusing to give up, getting up again and again, bruised but smiling.

So her name was Bonnie.