Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 229

Sophia's POV

I straightened, suddenly aware of how disheveled I must look—tear-stained face, wrinkled clothes, hair falling out of its ponytail. Not that it mattered.

"Is something wrong?" I asked flatly.

"Not at all." He glanced at my mother, but his gaze quickly returned to me. "I've reviewed your mother's test results, and I think we have a good treatment plan. But I wanted to discuss follow-up care."

"Okay." I crossed my arms.

"Given the severity of her asthma, I'd recommend weekly check-ins for the next month," he continued, his eyes still on me rather than my mother. "We'll need to monitor her lung function and adjust medications as needed."

"Weekly?" My mother's voice was faint. "I don't know if I can—"

"It's important," Dr. Shaw said gently. "Asthma can escalate quickly if it's not properly managed."

I thought of the house in the country. The guards. Getting my mother here once had been hard enough. Doing it every week? Impossible.

"Is there any other option?" I asked. "Maybe... home visits?"

Dr. Shaw's eyebrows lifted slightly, and something lit up in his expression. "Home visits?"

"I know it's not standard," I said quickly. "But my mother has trouble traveling. And if there's any way someone could come to her instead..."

He was quiet for a moment, his green eyes studying my face with an intensity that might have made me uncomfortable if I'd had the energy to care.

Then he smiled—small, but warm.

"Actually, I do make house calls," he said, and there was something almost eager in his voice now. "Not for everyone, mind you. But for patients who genuinely need it..." He pulled his phone from his coat pocket. "It's easier if you contact me directly. That way we can coordinate schedules without going through the hospital bureaucracy."

"Really?" I asked, because it was the polite thing to say.

"Really." He opened WhatsApp and held out his phone. "Here. Add me. I'm usually free on Wednesdays and Saturdays." He paused. "Or any day, really. I can make time work."

I took his phone without much thought, entering my number on autopilot.

When I handed it back, his hand brushed mine but I felt nothing.

A second later, my phone buzzed with his contact information.

Dr. Benjamin Shaw.

"There," he said softly. "Now you can reach me whenever you need to. I'll make sure your mother gets the care she needs, Ms. Cruz. You have my word."

"Thank you," I said automatically. "That's very kind of you."

"It's my job," he said gently.

My mother thanked him as well. "Thank you, Dr. Shaw."

---

The Uber ride back felt endless. My mother sat beside me, her breathing still labored despite the treatment. I kept one hand on her arm, counting each breath like I used to when I was small.

"Sophia." My mother's voice cut through my thoughts.

I turned to look at her. Even in the dim light, I could see how pale she was.

"That woman at the hospital," she said slowly. "Claire. She said you were pregnant."

My stomach dropped.

"Mom—"

"Is it true?"

The lie I'd prepared died on my tongue. I was so tired of lying to her.

"I had some stomach issues," I said finally. "That's all."

She studied me for a long moment.

"You're lying," she said quietly.

"Mom, please—"

"Don't." Her hand found mine, squeezing with surprising strength. "Don't lie to me anymore, Sophia. I don't have much time left. Don't make me spend it wondering if you're in trouble."

I turned away, staring out the window.

"I'm handling it," I whispered.

"Handling what?"

"Everything." I forced myself to meet her eyes. "I promise, Mom. You don't need to worry about me."

"That's exactly what worries me." Her grip tightened. "You've been 'handling' things for four years, Sophia. Look where it's gotten you."

I had no answer for that.

The car turned onto the long gravel drive. My mother's breath hitched.

"The flowers," she said suddenly.

I frowned. "What?"

"The ones that make me sick." She was looking out the window. "They're gone."

I followed her gaze. She was right. The beds that had been overflowing with pollen-heavy blooms were now empty, soil freshly turned.

Lucas had actually done it. He'd removed the flowers.

Something twisted in my chest. Not gratitude, but a sick acknowledgment that he'd listened.

"He must have had the gardeners take care of it," I said carefully.

---

Inside the house, everything was too quiet. The usual guards were absent from the main hall.

"Where is everyone?" my mother whispered.

"I don't know." Unease prickled my skin. "Come on. Let's get you upstairs."

My father was in their room, sitting by the window. His face lit up when he saw us.

"*Mi amor*," he said, crossing to us quickly. "How did it go?"

"Fine," my mother said. "Dr. Shaw was very thorough. He's going to make house calls."

My father's eyebrows rose. "House calls?"

"He'll come here to check on her," I explained. "Instead of making her go back to the hospital."

"That's... generous." My father's tone suggested suspicion, but he didn't press.

I watched them—this small, tender moment between two people who'd spent forty years together—and felt something crack inside me.

"I should go," I said abruptly.

My mother's head snapped up. "Already?"

"I have work tomorrow." Another lie. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

I kissed my mother's forehead before heading for the door.

---

Back in my Queens apartment, I collapsed on the couch without even taking off my coat. The place was dark and cold and empty.

But I had something to do first.

With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and searched for women's health clinics. I found one in Manhattan that offered same-day consultations.

"Women's Health Center, how can I help you?"

"I... I need to schedule an appointment," I whispered. "For a consultation. It's urgent."

"Of course. We have an opening tomorrow at 2 PM. Would that work?"

Tomorrow. Monday. "Yes, that's perfect."

After I hung up, I felt a strange mix of relief and terror. Tomorrow. I just had to make it until tomorrow.

My phone buzzed. I ignored it. It buzzed again. And again.

With a groan, I checked the screen.

Lucas：【How's your mother?】

Lucas: [The flowers are gone. You're welcome.]

Lucas: [Answer me.]

I stared at the messages, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of me wanted to ignore him, to pretend for one night that I didn't owe him anything.

But I knew better.

Me: [She's stable. Thank you for the flowers.]

His response was immediate.

Lucas: [Good. How is she feeling now?]

Me: [Much better. The treatment went well.]

Lucas: [I'm glad to hear that. By the way, pack a bag tonight. We're traveling for business tomorrow morning.]

My blood ran cold. Tomorrow morning? I'd just scheduled the appointment for tomorrow afternoon - I couldn't leave town now.

Me: [Tomorrow? I need to stay with my mother...]

Lucas: [She's stable, you said so yourself. This is important, Sophia. Don't make me ask twice.]

I stared at the screen, my hands trembling. The appointment. My one chance to take control of this nightmare, and he was ripping it away from me without even knowing it.

Me: [Lucas, please. She just got out of the hospital. What if something happens?]

Lucas: [Nothing will happen. We'll be back in a week. Pack light.]

In a week? The clinic would probably reschedule, but for when? Next week? Next month? How long could I hide this from him?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, desperate to find some excuse, some way out.

Me: [Can't we postpone? Just for a few days?]

Lucas: [No. Car picks you up at 6 AM. Don't be late.]

I wanted to scream. To throw my phone against the wall and watch it shatter into a thousand pieces.

Instead, I typed back: [Okay.]

I set the phone down with shaking hands and stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow at 2 PM, I was supposed to be sitting in a clinic, finally taking back some control over my own body. Instead, I'd be on a plane to God knows where, trapped again in Lucas's web.

The worst part? I couldn't even tell him why I needed to stay. Couldn't explain that I was carrying his child and needed to decide what to do about it. He'd made sure I had no voice in any of this.

I was completely, utterly trapped. Even my own body wasn't mine anymore.