His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 214: Under One Roof

"It's my fault," Iris admitted quietly, her voice lacking its usual steadiness.

Zoe didn't let it go. "So what happens now? Are you getting back together with him?"

"No."

"You really think you can hold that line with someone like Julian?"

Iris let out a slow breath, her thoughts tangled beyond sorting. "I don't know."

By the time she got home that night, the sky had already gone dark, and the steady hum of the city felt heavier than usual.

She slowed as she reached her door, then stopped completely.

Julian was standing there.

He looked like he had been waiting for a while, but the moment he saw her, his expression softened, a small, easy smile forming as he lifted the bags in his hands, one a duffel, the other clearly takeout.

"Did you eat yet?" he asked, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

She shook her head, stepping past him to unlock the door.

"I picked up some of your favorites," he added.

Her hand paused on the knob as she glanced at the duffel. "Are you planning to move in?"

"Yeah."

The answer came too easily.

"Julian, no," she said, turning to face him, every word weighed down with frustration. "I don't agree to this."

He didn't argue.

He just walked past her and stepped inside.

Iris followed, closing the door behind them as he slipped on a pair of house slippers, set his bag down, and headed straight for the kitchen like he already belonged there.

"Julian," she said, trailing after him, "weren't you the one who said you respect me?"

He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, exposing his forearms as he turned on the sink, rinsing his hands without any sense of urgency. "I do," he said calmly. "But that assumes I'm not giving up on you."

Her patience snapped. She pulled her phone from her pocket. "If you don't stop, I'm calling the cops."

He turned, dried his hands, and closed the distance between them in one smooth motion, his arm wrapping around her waist as he pulled her in.

"What are you doing?" she asked, startled, bracing her hands against his chest.

His voice softened, low and steady. "Let me take care of you. Let me be there for you. If I mess it up, if you're not happy, you can kick me out. Fair?"

She hesitated, overwhelmed. "There's only one bedroom."

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "We'll make it work."

Panic flickered through her instantly.

This wasn't something she could keep hidden forever.

"Julian, I'm not sharing a bed with you," she said quickly. "Can't you just stay at your place?"

"I'll take the floor."

"Julian—"

He leaned down before she could finish, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

It wasn't forceful, wasn't demanding, just warm and gentle, the kind of touch that disarmed her before she could react.

This is what I used to want.

"Go take a shower," he said quietly, turning her toward the bedroom. "Dinner'll be ready when you're done."

She knew arguing wouldn't change anything.

If she pushed too hard, it would only make him more stubborn.

So she let it go, for now.

By the time she stepped out half an hour later, the apartment smelled like a home-cooked meal.

The dishes were already set on the table, along with a bowl of rice waiting for her.

She sat down slowly, taking it in, braised pork with baby corn, poached chicken, sautéed greens, and a rich chicken soup.

Her chest tightened.

She knew this kind of care might not last.

And that only made her want it more.

Julian picked up his fork, placing a piece of baby corn into her bowl. "Just learned how to make this. Tell me if it passes."

"Thanks," she said softly, taking a bite.

It was good. Better than she expected.

"You didn't have to do all this," she murmured.

He smiled, finally taking a bite himself, his gaze lingering on her. "Feels worth it."

They ate in a quiet, steady rhythm, the kind of silence that didn't feel awkward.

Even without looking up, she could feel his attention on her, the way he kept adding food to her bowl, the quiet satisfaction in his expression just watching her eat.

When she stood to clean up, he stopped her immediately, taking the dishes from her hands. "From now on, you don't worry about any of this. I've got it."

She didn't argue.

She couldn't.

Later that night, the apartment settled into a calm stillness.

Julian unpacked his things, neatly setting aside a corner of the closet before grabbing his clothes and heading to shower, his intentions clear without him needing to say it out loud.

When he came out, he laid out a thin mattress on the floor beside the bed.

Iris sat on the bed with a book open in her hands, though she hadn't turned a page in a while, her attention drifting back to him again and again.

Once he was done, he sat down on the floor, looking up at her with an easy, unguarded smile. "It's late. You should get some sleep."

She checked the time on her phone and realized it was already eleven.

"Okay," she said quietly, setting the book aside before lying down.

Julian stood, walked over, and pulled the blanket up over her, the gesture simple but careful.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling, a quiet warmth settling in her chest that she didn't know how to handle, or how to push away.