His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 192: Stay Tonight

Iris stared at the bowl in front of her for a moment before picking up her fork, choosing silence over anything that might reopen what they had just barely contained.

Julian returned with his own bowl and sat across from her, his movements unhurried, his expression softer than it had been all night.

When she looked up, their eyes met, and something in the way he was looking at her made her heartbeat shift off rhythm.

She dropped her gaze first and started eating.

They fell into a quiet that didn't feel empty, just heavy, filled with everything neither of them was saying. The rain outside grew louder, steady against the windows, while the warm light in the room softened the edges of everything around them.

After a while, Iris broke the silence. "It's getting worse out there. Did you drive?"

Julian shook his head, finishing the last bite before setting his fork down. "No."

Her grip tightened slightly. "Then call your driver."

He pulled out his phone, lifted it halfway, then lowered it again under her watch. "No one's picking up."

Iris didn't hesitate. She reached for her own phone. "I'll book you a ride."

"It's pouring, and it's freezing," Julian said, standing up and gathering their bowls as he headed toward the kitchen. "If I go out like that, I'm just going to get worse."

She followed immediately. "You don't need to clean. I'll handle it. Just go before it gets—"

A sharp crack of thunder cut her off, loud enough to make both of them stop.

They looked at each other at the same time.

Julian's expression shifted first, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, something almost teasing slipping through. "You really going to send a sick guy out in that?"

Iris exhaled, frustration mixing with something she didn't want to name.

At this point, she wasn't even sure if he was actually sick.

"There's only one bedroom," she said finally. "Where are you planning to sleep?"

"The couch."

She frowned immediately. "It's too short. You won't fit."

She stepped forward, reaching for the sink. "Let me—"

"I've got it," Julian said, blocking her lightly with his arm.

"You said you're sick," she pushed, her concern slipping through despite everything. "Why are you doing all this?"

He didn't even look up. "I'm sick, not useless."

Iris held his gaze for a second, then let out a quiet breath and stepped back.

A few minutes later, she brought out a clean blanket and placed it on the couch.

Julian came out of the kitchen, drying his hands, his eyes landing on it.

"It's clean," she said. "Do you need anything else?"

"Extra toiletries?"

"I have some."

"Can I shower?"

"...Yeah." She gestured toward her room. "Bathroom's inside. I don't have anything for you to change into."

"I'll manage. Just need a towel."

Her cheeks warmed slightly as she handed him what he needed. "I've got work to finish. Do whatever you need."

Julian disappeared into the bathroom, and the sound of running water filled the apartment.

Iris sat at her desk, staring at the open pages in front of her, but nothing sank in.

The steady rhythm of the shower made it worse.

Why can't I focus...

After a while, she got up, turned the heat higher, then went to make a cup of cold medicine, setting it quietly on the table.

When the bathroom door opened, the shift in the air was immediate, warm and faintly scented, enough to make her grip tighten slightly on the edge of the desk.

"I made you something," she said without looking up. "Drink it."

Julian didn't respond, just walked over, picked it up, and finished it before stepping out again.

Iris let out a slow breath, but the heat in her face didn't go away.

A few minutes later, he came back, holding a blanket.

"The couch isn't going to work," he said simply. "I don't fit. I'll stay here tonight."

Iris looked up, caught off guard, and froze.

Julian stood there with nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist, his shoulders broad, his frame solid, every line of muscle defined in the soft light in a way that made looking away feel like effort.

She swallowed and dropped her gaze. "Then I'll take the couch."

Julian let out a quiet breath, already climbing into the bed. "What, you think I'm going to do something?"

Heat rushed to her face, and suddenly the room felt too small.

She gathered her things quickly, ready to leave, but the moment she stepped closer, his hand closed around her wrist.

She stilled.

When she looked back, his eyes were on her, steady, intense, impossible to ignore.

"You don't trust me?" he asked.

"I just don't want to catch whatever you have," she said, though it sounded weaker than she intended.

Julian didn't argue.

He just pulled.

The motion caught her off guard completely, and before she could react, she lost her balance and fell forward, landing against him.

She tried to push herself up, but his arm came around her, holding her in place.

"Relax," he murmured, his voice low against her ear. "It's not contagious."

"Julian, let go," she said, her voice tightening, her pulse completely out of control.

Instead, he shifted, pulling her fully onto the bed and dragging the blanket over both of them, creating just enough space to keep them apart, but not enough to dull the heat between them.

His breath brushed lightly against her hair, warm and steady, and in the quiet of the room, with the rain still falling outside, the air between them changed, thick with something neither of them could pretend wasn't there anymore.