Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 8

Elena: POV

I needed air. Space. Anything to get away from Julian's conflicted eyes and the ghost of Victoria Astor hovering between us.

My feet carried me through the French doors and into the estate gardens. October had painted everything in rust and gold—chrysanthemums spilling over stone borders, asters blooming in deep purples, the last stubborn roses clinging to their bushes.

The gravel path crunched softly beneath my heels, each step taking me further from the suffocating atmosphere inside.

It should have been beautiful. I felt nothing but emptiness.

My hand drifted to my stomach, still flat beneath my burgundy dress. Six weeks. A tiny life growing inside me that its father would never want.

*"You're not worthy of carrying my child."*

Julian's words echoed in my head, sharp as broken glass. I'd spent sixteen years loving him from the shadows, three years married to him in secret, and I still wasn't enough. Would never be enough.

The evening breeze picked up, carrying the scent of dying leaves and earth preparing for winter.

Everything around me was letting go, transforming. Why couldn't I?

I sank onto a stone bench beneath an old oak, its leaves turning amber in the fading light.

The cold stone seeped through my dress, grounding me. What the fuck was I doing? Clinging to scraps of affection like a starving dog? Letting him use my body while he saved his heart for someone else? My vision blurred with tears I refused to let fall.

"Beautiful evening."

I startled, my heart jumping. Arthur Sterling stood at the edge of the path, leaning heavily on his cane, his silver hair catching the sunset like a halo. Despite his age and the heart attack that had nearly killed him months ago, his blue eyes were sharp.

"Grandpa Arthur." I stood quickly, wiping at my eyes and hoping he hadn't noticed. "I didn't hear you."

"These old bones move quieter than you'd think." He gestured to the bench with a gentle smile. "Mind if I join you? My doctor says I should rest more, but between you and me, I think he's just trying to make me feel old."

I managed a weak laugh as he settled beside me with a soft grunt. We sat together in silence for a moment, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and distant birdsong. He gazed out at the garden, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.

"You know what I love about autumn?" he said finally, his voice thoughtful. "Everything looks like it's dying. The flowers, the leaves, the grass. But it's not death—it's transformation. Preparing for something new." He paused, his weathered hand resting on his cane. "Nature's way of reminding us that endings are just beginnings in disguise."

I didn't respond.

"Elena." His voice grew gentle, almost fatherly. "I may be old, but I'm not blind. I see how you look at my grandson. And I see how he looks at you when he thinks no one's watching."

My throat tightened. "With what? Obligation?"

"With confusion," Arthur corrected softly. "The boy's spent so long believing one story, he can't see the truth right in front of him." He paused, turning to face me fully. "You know what they say—can't see the forest for the trees. Sometimes the person in the middle of it all is the last one to understand what's really happening."

"He doesn't love me," I whispered. The words tasted like ash, bitter and final.

"Doesn't he?" Arthur's eyes held mine, kind but unflinching. "Or does he just not know it yet?"

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to so badly it physically hurt. But all I could remember was Julian's cruel laughter when I'd asked if he'd ever loved me. His cold dismissal.

"I've only ever heard him say sweet things in bed," I said bitterly, my voice cracking. "And we both know those don't mean shit."

Arthur was quiet for a long moment, his gaze distant. Then he squeezed my hand with surprising strength. "Give it time, sweetheart. Some men are slower than others to figure out what matters. But when they do..." He smiled, and there was something almost wistful in his expression.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Because what if Arthur was wrong? What if Julian never figured it out?

What if I was wasting my life waiting for a man who would never choose me?

The baby fluttered inside me—or maybe it was just my imagination. Too early for movement. But I felt it anyway. A reminder that time was running out.

I had to make a choice soon.

Stay and keep hoping.

Or leave before he broke me completely.

---

Dinner was torture.

The dining room glowed with candlelight, the long mahogany table set with china that probably cost more than my annual salary. Crystal glasses caught the light, throwing rainbow prisms across the cream-colored walls.

Mom had outdone herself—filet mignon, roasted vegetables with herbs from the estate garden, fresh bread that filled the air with warmth and the promise of comfort I couldn't feel.

Catherine was notably absent, thank God. But her words still echoed in my head: *Temporary. A favor. Not real.*

I sat beside Julian, hyperaware of every movement he made. The way his hand rested near his wine glass. The tension in his shoulders. The occasional glance he threw my way when he thought I wasn't looking.

Across from us, Mom kept shooting me worried glances, her "mama bear" instincts clearly on high alert. She knew something was wrong. She always knew.

Arthur sat at the head of the table, watching us with those sharp blue eyes that missed nothing.

"So, Julian." Arthur cut into his steak with surgical precision, the knife scraping softly against the plate. "How's work treating you?"

"The company's doing well, Grandfather." Julian's voice was measured, professional—the tone he used in board meetings. "Q3 earnings exceeded projections by fifteen percent."

"Mmm. And your wife? Is she also 'exceeding projections'?" The question hung in the air, pointed as a knife.

Julian's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Elena's an exceptional designer. Her work speaks for itself."

I felt Arthur's gaze shift to me, warm and assessing. "Elena saved my life, you know. When my heart gave out, she was the only one who kept her head. Performed CPR like a pro." He smiled, and there was genuine affection in it. "I owe this beautiful girl everything."

"I just did what anyone would do," I managed, my voice smaller than I intended.

"No." Arthur's voice turned firm, brooking no argument. "Most people panic. Freeze. Fall apart. You acted. That takes courage. Character." He met Julian's eyes deliberately. "A woman like that is rare. Don't take her for granted."