They Beg For My Return (Camila Jackson) novel Chapter 112

Chapter 112 Tired Of Your Act

Harry’s legs gave out, and with a heavy thud, his knees sank into the muddy ground. The sound was drowned out by the rumbling thunder overhead.

The wind screamed, hurling fat raindrops against him like tiny fists, each one stinging his skin. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the torment inside him.

Rain streamed down his face, mixing with his tears until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. His cries were shredded by the storm, leaving only the bitter taste of blood in his throat as rainwater filled his lungs.

The memories of how he had hurt Camila came rushing back–every cruel word, every humiliation he had inflicted on her for Agnes’s sake. They were like jagged shards lodged in his eyes, cutting deeper with every blink.

Each scene played on an endless loop in his head, growing sharper and more unbearable with every passing second. “How could I be such a bastard? How could I treat her like that? Camila-” he choked out, his voice raw with regret.

Even Michael was touched. His brows furrowed, his expression heavy with pity.

But he also thought Harry deserved this. Sure, Harry was suffering now, but it was nothing compared to what Camila had endured–as a promising student set to attend Wasmore University, she had been wrongfully imprisoned, branded with a criminal record, and left permanently disabled.

Michael couldn’t even imagine the horrors Camila had faced during those five years in prison. Beaten until she lost her hearing, her leg broken, a kidney stolen–those were just the visible scars. What about the countless nights of torment they couldn’t see?

Still, Michael’s heart softened as he looked at Harry, drenched and utterly defeated. He sighed and said, “Harry, she can’t hear you anymore. Let’s head back, okay?”

But Harry seemed to have lost his mind. He slammed his forehead against the ground repeatedly as if trying to etch his guilt into the earth.

The dull thuds echoed through the storm, and soon, a swollen bruise formed on his forehead. Blood trickled down, mixing with the rainwater pooling around him.

Michael, alarmed by the sight, rushed forward to stop him. “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

Harry shoved him aside, his voice hoarse and raw. “Camila can’t hear me, but she can see me,” he cried, his tears blending with the relentless downpour.

“It’s all my fault. I ruined Camila’s life. I have to make amends. I’ll stay here until she forgives me,” he added, his voice cracking with despair as he continued to slam his forehead against the ground.

Michael stood to the side, watching Harry’s unhinged display, completely at a loss for what to do.

Camila watched the scene unfold from the window, her expression cold and indifferent. She felt no sympathy–only disdain.

This wasn’t the first time Harry had put on such a show of repentance. But every time he apologized, it was only a matter of time before he humiliated her again for Agnes.

This endless cycle of remorse and cruelty had long since turned his actions into a tiresome farce in her eyes.

Now, all she cared about was Giovani–he had fought Harry for her, and the thought sent a jolt through her.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she turned and bolted from the window. Dragging her heavy legs, she rushed out of her room. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she hurried down the stairs, her only concern being whether Giovani was safe.

Just then, Giovani walked in, his black shirt clinging to his body, perfectly outlining the sculpted lines of his chest and abs.

His damp hair dripped steadily, rainwater tracing down his face in rivulets. Even drenched, he carried an effortless elegance that only seemed to heighten his magnetic presence.

“Mr. Campbell!” Camila called out, her voice tinged with urgency as she hurried toward him. But in her haste, she misstepped, and a sudden weightlessness overtook her.

Giovani’s heart clenched at the sight. In that instant, the world around him blurred into insignificance, leaving only the image of Camila falling.

He moved like lightning, approaching her with long, determined strides. Rainwater streamed from his hair, tracing sharp lines down his chiseled face before scattering with each step.

Just as Camila was about to hit the ground, Giovani swooned in his arm shooting out and wrapping securely around her waist like an unyielding shield.

Camila felt like she was gently lifted by a pair of firm yet tender hands, landing safely on Giovani’s lap. His other hand instinctively cradled her back, holding her tightly within his embrace.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Outside, the storm raged on, with howling winds and torrential rain. But inside

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Chapter 112 Tired Of Your Act

the living room, there was only the sound of their breathing.

Giovani panted lightly, his deep eyes filled with worry as they locked onto Camila’s, as if searching for any sign of pain. Camila stared dazedly at his strikingly close face. She could feel his strong heartbeat and the warmth radiating from his body. Her hands instinctively gripped his arm, holding on tightly–as if she never wanted to let go.

Giovani caught the worry in her eyes, a worry so tender it felt like a gentle hand stirring the strings of his heart, making his gaze grow darker.

His intense gaze locked onto Camila. Driven by an emotion he couldn’t control, his hand tightened around her arm.

The sudden pressure made Camila gasp. It was subtle, but it landed heavily in Giovani’s heart, snapping him out of his stormy thoughts.

His pupils trembled, and in an instant, he loosened his grip. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within.

Slowly, he reached for her hand. Under her confused gaze, he removed the ring from his finger–a simple yet elegant band that gleamed coldly under the light.

With deliberate and reverent movements, Giovani slid the ring onto Camila’s middle finger, as if sealing a promise that meant everything to him.