Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 77

Julian's POV

I sat in the chair beside her hospital bed, watching her chest rise and fall.

She'd been out for three hours.

The sedative the doctor gave her was strong—strong enough to knock out someone twice her size.

But even unconscious, she looked **broken.**

Bruises blooming across her pale skin. Bandages wrapped around her ribs. IV line taped to her arm. Heart monitor beeping steadily in the background.

*Our baby is dead.*

The thought kept circling. Over and over.

*Dead.*

I'd failed her.

Failed **both** of them.

The door opened. Dr. Martinez entered, clipboard in hand.

"Mr. Sterling." She kept her voice low. Professional. "We've completed all the tests."

I stood. "And?"

"The miscarriage is complete. No surgical intervention needed, but we'll need to do a follow-up ultrasound in 48 hours to ensure everything has passed." She paused. "Physically, your wife will recover. She has three cracked ribs, severe bruising, and a mild concussion. But emotionally—" She looked at Elena. "She's going to need significant support."

"I'll be here."

Dr. Martinez's expression was carefully neutral. "Mr. Sterling, I need to ask. Do you know who assaulted your wife?"

"No." My jaw clenched. "But I'm going to find out."

"The police will want to speak with her when she wakes up."

"Fine."

The doctor made a note on her clipboard. "We'll keep her for at least 72 hours for observation. Given the severity of her injuries and the trauma, we can't discharge her until we're certain she's stable—both physically and mentally."

She left.

I sat back down. Took Elena's hand.

It was still cold.

*I'm going to fix this,* I thought. *I'm going to find whoever did this and make them pay.*

---

An hour later, Elena stirred.

Her eyelids fluttered. Opened.

Those amber eyes found mine.

And immediately **hardened.**

"You're still here." Her voice was hoarse. Raw.

"Of course I'm still here."

She pulled her hand away from mine. Winced at the movement. "Where else would you be? Playing the devoted husband?"

The bitterness in her tone cut deep.

"Elena—"

"Don't." She tried to sit up. Gasped in pain, hand flying to her ribs. "Don't say my name like that. Like you actually **care.**"

"I **do** care—"

"**Bullshit.**" She pressed the button to raise the bed slowly, every movement clearly hurting her. "You didn't care when I told you I was pregnant. You didn't care when I said I was scared. You sure as hell didn't care enough to protect me."

"That's not fair—"

"**Fair?**" She laughed. It sounded **broken** and ended in a wince. "You want to talk about **fair?** Our baby is **dead,** Julian. Dead because someone beat me half to death on a dark street. And you—" Her voice cracked. "You weren't even there."

"I didn't know—"

"**Exactly.**" Tears were streaming down her face now. "You didn't know because you didn't **care** enough to know. You were too busy with your fucking **work** and your fucking **Victoria** to notice your wife was running away."

The words hit like physical blows.

"Elena, please—"

"The baby's gone." Her voice went **flat.** "I know it. I felt it leave me.**"

*Fuck.*

"I'm so sorry—"

"**Sorry?**" She looked at me. And the **hatred** there— "You're **sorry?** You said you didn't know if you wanted this baby. You looked at me like I was **trapping** you. And now you're **sorry?**"

“I was panicking, I didn't know what to do—”

"And I **wasn't?**" Her voice was getting louder. "“And you think I had it all figured out? I was carrying him! I was terrified every single second.”" She stopped. Wiped her face roughly, then gasped at the pain in her ribs. "But I never once thought he was a problem to be solved!"

"Elena—"

"I want a divorce."

The words hit like a **physical blow.**

My stomach dropped.

"What?"

"You heard me." She met my eyes. "I want a divorce. I'm done with this marriage. I'm done with **you.**"

"You're not thinking clearly. You're in shock—"

"**No.**" She shook her head carefully. "I'm thinking more clearly than I have in **three years.** This marriage was a mistake from the beginning. You never wanted me. Never wanted our baby. And now—" Her voice cracked. "Now there's nothing left."

"That's not **true—**"

"Isn't it?" She laughed again. That same **broken** sound. "You said you didn't know if you wanted this baby. You looked at me like I was a **burden.** Like our child was something you had to **tolerate.**"

"I was **scared—**"

"And I **wasn't?**" She was crying harder now. "You think I wasn't terrified? But I loved that baby. I would have done **anything** for that baby. And you—" She stopped. "You couldn't even pretend to be happy."

"Elena, please—"

"I'm done." She reached for the call button. "I'm done pretending this marriage is something it's not. I'm done waiting for you to choose me."

I moved faster.

Grabbed her wrist before she could press the button.

"**No.**"

"Julian, **let go—**"

"**No.**" I held her wrist firmly but carefully, aware of her injuries. "You're not calling anyone. You're not leaving."

"You don't get to decide—"

"**Yes, I do.**" My voice came out harder than I meant. "You're my **wife.** You don't get to just walk away."

"I just asked for a **divorce—**"

"And I'm **denying** it." I held her tighter as she tried to pull away, watching her face contort in pain. "We're not getting divorced. We're not giving up."

"**Let me go—**"

"**No.**" I leaned closer. "Listen to me. I know I fucked up. I know I said things I shouldn't have. But we're going to get through this."

"There's nothing to get through." Her voice was **shaking.** "Our baby is **dead,** Julian. Dead because I wasn't safe. Because someone—" She started sobbing. "Someone wanted to hurt me and now my baby's **gone—**"

"I know." I pulled her against my chest despite her struggles, being careful of her ribs. "I know. And I'm going to find out who did this. I'm going to make them **pay.** I promise you."

"It doesn't matter." She wasn't fighting anymore. Just crying. "Nothing matters. My baby's gone and I—I can't—"

"Elena." I pulled back. Cupped her face. Made her look at me. "We'll have other children. I **promise** you. We'll—"

"**No.**" She jerked away like I'd burned her, crying out at the pain the movement caused. "Don't you **dare** say that. Don't you dare act like this baby was **replaceable—**"

"That's not what I meant—"

"Then what **did** you mean?" She was **shaking.** "That we'll just make another one? That I should forget about the child I just **lost?**"

"Of course not. But Elena—" I reached for her again. "We're young. We have **time.** After you heal, we can try again. We can—"

"I don't **want** to try again." Her voice went **flat.** "Not with you. Not after this."

The words **gutted** me.

"You don't mean that."

"**Yes, I do.**" She looked at me. And the **hatred** there— "Every time I look at you, all I see is our dead baby. All I hear is you saying you didn't know if you wanted it. I can't—" Her voice broke. "I can't be with you anymore."

"**Too bad.**" The words came out before I could stop them. "Because you're not leaving."

"You can't **force** me to stay—"

"**Watch me.**" I grabbed her hand. "You're my wife. You made **vows.** And I'm not letting you break them just because you're grieving."

"You're **insane—**"

"Maybe." I pulled her closer, mindful of her injuries. "But I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not **ever.**"