Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 11

Elena：POV

My hand stilled. "Marie, I'm willing but I can't. I can't give it a happy life. It's living a much easier and more comfortable life with you."

"I know, I know. You've said this before. But honey, the way he looks at you..." She shook her head fondly. "Just think about it, okay?"

She walked away, leaving me alone with Milo and my thoughts.

*Adopt him.*

God, I wanted to. More than anything, I wanted to take this sweet, gentle creature home. Wanted to come back to the mansion and have him greet me at the door. Wanted to curl up on the couch with him and pretend I wasn't so fucking alone.

But Julian hated animals with fur. "Too messy," he'd said once, dismissively. "Too much maintenance."

And now... now I was pregnant. Pregnant with a baby he didn't want, in a marriage that was falling apart.

I couldn't add a cat to that disaster.

Milo stretched in my lap, his claws gently kneading through the fabric of my dress. I looked down at him, at his half-closed eyes and contented expression.

"I'm sorry, buddy," I whispered. "I wish things were different."

He purred louder, as if to say he understood.

I sipped my tea, letting the warmth spread through me. Around us, the café was quiet. A couple in the corner was laughing softly as a black cat batted at their phone. An older woman sat by the window, a calico curled in her lap while she read.

This was peace. This was normal.

This was everything my life wasn't.

---

I don't know how long I sat there. Long enough for the tea to go cold. Long enough for Milo to fall asleep in my lap, his weight warm and comforting.

Marie had only checked in once to refill my cup. The other customers drifted out one by one until it was just me, the cats, and Marie dozing at the counter.

I should go home. Back to that cold, empty mansion. Back to waiting for Julian to maybe show up, maybe fuck me, maybe remind me again how little I meant to him.

But I wasn't willing to move.

My hand rested on Milo's back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. In my other hand, my phone buzzed.

Julian: [Are you done at the hospital?]

I stared at the message. He'd remembered. He'd actually remembered to check on me.

It shouldn't have made my chest ache the way it did.

Me: [Just finished. Everything's fine. Just a stomach bug like I said.]

The lie tasted bitter even through text.

Julian: [Good. Get some rest. I'll be home late.]

Home. As if the mansion was a home. As if we were a real couple who said goodnight and meant it.

I set the phone down and buried my face in my hands.

*What am I doing?*

I was pregnant with his baby. I was lying to him about it. I was sitting in a cat café at ten o'clock at night because I couldn't face my own goddamn mansion.

Milo stirred, lifting his head to blink at me sleepily. Then he stood, stretched his front legs out in that elegant cat way, and butted his head against my chin, as if saying, *it's okay, human. I'm here.*

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them back. I wouldn't cry.

I looked down at Milo, knowing I should leave but unable to make myself move just yet. "Just a few more minutes," I whispered to him.

He seemed to understand, settling back down but this time positioning himself differently—rolling slightly onto his side, exposing his soft white belly. It was the ultimate sign of trust from a cat, and it made my throat tight.

I couldn't resist. My fingers moved gently to the top of his head first, scratching behind his ears in small circles. His purr intensified immediately, a rumbling motor of contentment.

I traced down to the spot under his chin, and his head tilted back, giving me better access. His eyes closed completely, whiskers twitching with pleasure.

"You're such a sweetheart," I murmured, my voice thick. "You deserve someone who can give you everything."

My hand drifted lower, hesitating over his exposed belly. Some cats hated belly rubs—it was a trap, an invitation that ended in claws and teeth. But Milo just lay there, trusting, waiting.

I placed my palm gently on his soft stomach, feeling the warmth of him, the rapid beat of his tiny heart. He didn't flinch. Didn't attack. Just purred louder, his paws stretching out in pure bliss.

God, when was the last time anything had trusted me like this?

When was the last time I'd felt this kind of uncomplicated affection?

I stroked his belly in slow, gentle motions, watching his face relax completely. He looked so peaceful, so content. Like this moment was all that mattered.

"I really do have to go," I told him softly, though I made no move to stop petting him. "But I'll come back. I promise I'll come back."

Milo's eyes opened briefly, meeting mine with that knowing orange gaze. Then he rolled upright, stretched once more, and touched his nose to my hand—a gentle goodbye.

I scratched behind his ears one final time, memorizing the softness of his fur, the warmth of his small body.

Then I carefully stood, grabbing my coat and bag. Milo jumped down gracefully, circling my legs twice before wandering off to join the other cats near the window.

Marie looked up from behind the counter, where she'd been organizing receipts.

"Heading out?"

"Yeah. Thanks for the tea."

"Anytime, honey." She paused, her expression softening. "And seriously—think about Milo. He's yours if you want him."

I forced a smile, though my chest ached. "I'll think about it."

---

The bell chimed as I pushed open the door, stepping back into the cold night air. I pulled my coat tighter and started walking, my breath forming small clouds in front of me.

The street was quieter now, most shops closed, only a few restaurants still glowing with warm light. I should call a car. Get home before Julian did, even though "home" felt like the last place I wanted to be.

I made it maybe three steps before I heard my name.

"Elena?"

I froze. That voice—familiar, warm, tinged with surprise.

I turned slowly.

Standing in front of the café, hands in the pockets of a navy peacoat, was Ethan Blackwell.

My stomach dropped.

Ethan. My college mentor, four years older than me. The guy who'd helped me navigate Parsons, who'd introduced me to half the contacts I had in the industry.

The guy I'd turned down because I was too busy pining after Julian fucking Sterling.

"Ethan," I managed, my voice coming out steadier than I felt. "I... I didn't expect to see you here."

He smiled, that same easy, genuine smile I remembered. "Elena. Wow. It's been, what, three years?"

"Something like that."

He took a step closer, and I noticed the way his dark eyes softened when he looked at me. Like he was genuinely happy to see me. Like seeing me had made his night better.

When was the last time Julian had looked at me like that?

"I didn't know you came here," he said, glancing at the café behind us. "This is my usual spot after work. I live just a few blocks over."

"I come here sometimes," I said carefully. "When I need to think."

"Yeah?" His smile widened. "Me too. The cats are great listeners."

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it—a real one, not the polite, hollow ones I'd been giving Julian. "They really are."

Ethan's expression grew more serious, concern flickering across his features. "Are you heading back now?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a car?"

"No."

“It's late. Let me give you a ride.”