His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 215: Lingering Warmth

Julian stayed where he was for a second, one hand braced against the mattress as he leaned in and pressed a quiet kiss to her forehead, the kind that lingered just long enough to feel intentional.

"Good night, Iris."

He reached over and turned off the light before she could respond, and the room slipped instantly into darkness, the kind that made every small movement easier to hear. A moment later, she caught the soft shift of fabric as he stepped away from the bed and settled back down on the floor like he had the night before.

But the warmth he left behind didn't go with him.

Iris lay still, staring into the dark, her heartbeat uneven in a way that refused to settle. After a while, she lifted her hand and touched her forehead, almost cautiously, as if she needed to confirm it had really happened. The heat was still there, faint but unmistakable, and something about that small detail made her chest tighten.

She turned onto her side and looked down.

Even in the dim light filtering through the curtains, she could make out Julian's outline on the floor, already still, already asleep, as if none of this had affected him at all.

Her thoughts, on the other hand, refused to quiet.

No matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she wasn't immune to any of this. She still wanted love, still wanted something steady and real, but wanting it didn't mean she trusted it anymore. Not after everything. Not after how it had ended the first time.

And yet Julian wasn't backing off.

Not even a little.

His voice from earlier kept replaying, low and certain, threading through her thoughts no matter how she tried to push it away.

She shut her eyes and let out a slow breath.

Julian... what am I supposed to do with you?

Morning came too soon.

The alarm cut through the quiet, dragging Iris out of a restless sleep. She reached for her phone, silenced it, and sat up slowly, pushing her hair back with one hand while her eyes were still half-closed.

The nausea hit before she even fully woke up.

It rolled in fast and sharp, giving her no time to think. She threw the blanket aside and rushed to the bathroom, barely making it before bracing herself against the sink and dry heaving.

It had become routine.

Unpleasant, exhausting, but familiar enough that she didn't panic anymore.

When it passed, she rinsed her mouth and straightened, only to pause when she noticed the sink.

A glass of water sat neatly to the side. Next to it, a toothbrush already prepared, toothpaste carefully squeezed onto it.

She stared at it for a second longer than she meant to.

Then she picked it up.

The moment it got close, her stomach turned again.

She barely had time to react.

"Iris?"

Julian's voice came from behind her, sharp with concern as the bathroom door pushed open. "What's going on?"

She startled, turning too quickly, still holding the toothbrush like she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't.

Julian's expression tightened immediately as he stepped closer, his eyes moving over her face. "You don't look okay. I heard you—were you getting sick?"

"No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I'm fine. It's nothing."

He didn't look convinced. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek as he studied her more closely. "Your throat bothering you? You sound off."

Iris stepped back before his hand could linger. "Maybe. I'll get it checked when I have time."

"I'll go with you."

"You don't need to." She turned, placing the toothbrush down and guiding him toward the door with both hands. "Seriously, just go. I need to get ready."

Julian let out a quiet breath, but he didn't push. "Alright. Don't take forever. Breakfast's ready."

"Okay."

The door closed behind him, and Iris stood there for a second, her hands gripping the edge of the counter.

I can't let him figure it out. Not now.

By the time she came out ten minutes later, the apartment looked different.

Not just cleaner, but reset in a way that felt familiar, almost unsettling. The bed had been made with precision, everything in place the way it used to be.

She paused at the doorway before stepping out.

On the balcony, Julian stood with his phone to his ear, one hand in his pocket, the morning light falling across him in a way that made the moment feel oddly calm.

When he noticed her, the edge in his expression softened. He gestured toward the table, telling her to eat.

Iris sat down.

Breakfast was already laid out, simple but deliberate, everything arranged the way she liked it.

She reached for a boiled egg, tapping it lightly against the table, but the second the shell cracked, the smell hit her.

Her stomach turned instantly.

She dropped it and covered her mouth, trying to breathe through the wave of nausea.

Julian cut his call without hesitation and came inside.

"Iris," he said, pulling out the chair beside her and sitting down. "What's wrong?"

She forced herself to straighten, swallowing it down, pretending nothing had happened. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." His hand came up again, pressing lightly to her forehead. "Where does it hurt?"

She caught his wrist and lowered it. "I said I'm fine."

"Then come to the hospital with me."

"I don't need to." She picked up her fork and speared a piece of food, taking a bite just to prove it.

Julian still didn't look convinced, his gaze lingering on the faint flush in her cheeks, studying her like he was trying to decide if something was off.

It didn't quite look like she was sick.

His phone rang again.

He glanced at the screen. Frederick.

"I need to take this," he said, getting up and stepping out onto the balcony before answering.

Iris kept eating, but her attention drifted toward him.

The second he picked up, the shift in his expression was obvious, his jaw tightening, his face going cold.

She didn't need to hear the conversation to know who was on the other end.

After what he'd pulled, wiping out billions in value in a single day, there was no way Frederick was letting that go.

Out on the balcony, Julian's patience ran thin fast.

"Are you done?" he said flatly into the phone. "If you are, I'm hanging up."

Frederick's voice came through sharp and unforgiving. "You caused this. You fix it."

"I told the truth," Julian replied evenly. "I'm not engaged. I don't have a fiancée. What exactly needs fixing?"

"The market is still dropping," Frederick snapped. "The only solution is for you to marry Lily. That stabilizes both sides."

Julian let out a low, humorless laugh. "My marriage isn't a business strategy. But if you're that desperate, there's an easier fix. Let Caleb marry her. He's running Everhart Group now anyway."

"You think this is a joke?" Frederick's voice rose. "Don't push me. I can leave everything to Caleb."

"Go ahead," Julian said without hesitation. "I don't care."

He ended the call.

When he stepped back inside, Iris had already finished eating.

The egg sat untouched.

"Why didn't you eat that?" he asked.

Iris met his eyes, calm but distant. "Julian, this place isn't big enough for two people. You should move back."