Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 84

Elena: POV

A week later, I was on a plane to Florida.

I stared out the window as the New York skyline shrank beneath us, swallowed by clouds. *Finally leaving this fucking city.*

The divorce papers were filed. The court notification would arrive within 30 days. I didn't need to wait for it. I just needed to—*leave*.

My carry-on was stuffed with painkillers and antibiotics. Fresh gauze wrapped my wrists, hidden under a black long-sleeve sweater. I looked like shit—pale, gaunt, dark circles carved under my eyes like bruises.

But at least I was moving. At least I'd gotten out of that goddamn mansion.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

I opened my eyes.

My heart almost stopped.

**Ethan Blackwell** stood in the aisle, wearing a navy sweater, boarding pass in hand, smiling at me.

*No. No fucking way.*

"Elena?" His smile froze. "Holy shit. What are the odds?"

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

He frowned, his gaze sweeping across my face.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

I cleared my throat. "I'm fine. Just—surprised."

He hesitated, then slid into the seat beside me.

"So," Ethan said carefully. "Florida?"

I nodded. "Visiting my mom. She just moved there."

"I'm heading to Miami for a design conference. Fashion Tech Summit." He smiled. "Crazy coincidence, huh?"

*Coincidence.*

My stomach tightened. Mom lived in West Palm Beach, not far from Miami.

*Too close for comfort.*

"Yeah," I murmured. "Crazy."

The plane climbed into the clouds. My ears started aching.

"Elena," Ethan said quietly. "Can I ask you something?"

I was too tired to refuse. "Sure."

"How have you been? I mean—*really*."

I laughed shortly. "I filed for divorce last week."

His eyes widened. "You—what?"

"You heard me." My voice was flat. "We went to the courthouse. Signed the papers. It's done."

"Jesus Christ. I'm so sorry, Elena—"

"Don't." I cut him off. "Don't say you're sorry. Everyone keeps saying they're sorry, and it doesn't change anything."

He was silent for a long moment. Then:

"The job offer still stands, you know. Milan. Whenever you're ready."

I closed my eyes. *Milan.* The opportunity I'd turned down. The one that now sounded like an escape hatch.

"And," he continued, his voice dropping lower, "if you'd let me—I'd like a chance to pursue you. Properly this time."

My eyes opened. He was looking at me with that earnest, tender expression.

*Fuck.*

"Ethan—"

"I know the timing's terrible," he interrupted. "I know you just got out of a marriage. But I've been waiting for years, Elena. *Years.*"

I stared at him. There was something intense in his eyes, something that made me uncomfortable.

*Too much. It's too much.*

"I don't have the energy for another relationship," I said sharply. "I can barely keep myself alive right now, Ethan. I can't take care of someone else's feelings."

"You don't owe me anything," I added, voice harder. "You don't need to do anything for me."

He looked at me, hurt and confused.

I turned away, staring out the window. Nothing but clouds.

*Why does he care so much? It's fucking weird.*

*Everyone wants something from me. Julian wanted a secret wife. And now Ethan wants to save me.*

*I don't need to be saved. I need to be left alone.*

"Can we still be friends?" Ethan asked quietly.

I sighed. "We've always been friends, Ethan."

"Okay." He sounded relieved. "Good."

I leaned back in my seat, exhaustion seeping into my bones. My eyelids grew heavy.

*Just sleep. Just—disappear for a while.*

And then I was gone.

---

**Dream.**

Julian stood before me, smiling. *A real smile.* Warm, genuine.

"I love you," he said softly. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it."

We were in the old estate's garden. Sunlight warm. Everything perfect.

Then the scene shifted.

**I was a child again.** Ten years old. In the forest at the Hamptons estate.

Someone was screaming.

I was running. Branches tearing at my face. My lungs burning.

*Have to call for help. Have to save Julian.*

But I wasn't running fast enough.

The scene changed again.

**Hospital.** White walls. Sterile smell.

The doctor said: "I'm sorry. The pregnancy is no longer viable."

I looked down at my stomach. Blood. Blood everywhere.

"No," I whispered. "No, no, no—"

Julian appeared. He knelt before me.

"Forgive me," he said, tears in his eyes. "I killed our baby. I killed—"

"You killed him," I said. My voice like broken glass. "You killed our son."

He collapsed. Fell to the ground, sobbing.

But I felt nothing.

*Nothing.*

---

"Elena. Elena, wake up."

I opened my eyes.

Ethan was looking at me, concern flooding his gaze.

My face was wet.

*Tears. I'm crying.*

"Fuck," I whispered, wiping my face. But the tears wouldn't stop.

"You were whimpering in your sleep," Ethan said softly.

"Just a nightmare." My voice shook.

*Liar.*

Not just a nightmare. A memory. A replay of everything I'd lost.

I closed my eyes, forced myself to breathe.

*In. Out. In. Out.*

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ethan's hand touched my arm. Gentle. Careful.

"I'm fine." I managed a weak smile. "Really."

He didn't look convinced. But he didn't push.

The plane began descending. The captain announced our arrival in Miami.

I looked out the window. Blue ocean. White sand. Florida sunshine, bright and blinding.

*New start. Clean slate.*

---

After we landed, we walked together toward baggage claim.

"So where exactly is your mom?" Ethan asked.

"West Palm Beach. About an hour north."

"Ah. So we're not actually going to the same place."

"Guess not." I felt strange relief. *Maybe it really was just a coincidence.*

We stopped at the carousel. Waiting for luggage.

"Elena," Ethan said, hesitant. "Would you—maybe we could grab dinner sometime this week? Just as friends."

I looked at him. His expression was hopeful but carried that intensity I couldn't quite name.

*Why does he care so much?*

But I was too tired to question it.

"Sure," I said. "If I have time."

"Great." His smile lit up. "I'll text you."

My suitcase appeared. I reached for it—

Ethan grabbed it first.

"I got it," he said.

"I can carry my own suitcase—"

"I know you can." His tone was gentle. "But let me do this. Please."

I stared at him. Then gave up. "Fine."

We walked toward the exit. Sunshine hit my face, warm and bright.

At the door, Ethan handed back my suitcase.

"Take care of yourself, Elena," he said, eyes locked on mine. "And call me. Anytime. For anything."

"I will." **

"I mean it." His hand rested on my shoulder. "You're not alone."

*But I am. I've always been alone.*

I waved at him. "We'll grab dinner."

He smiled. Then turned toward the rental car counter.

I watched him go, felt something in my chest loosen.

I dragged my suitcase toward the Uber pickup area, squinting in the Florida sun. "I'm going to live well and forget all the unpleasant things that happened before," I told myself.