Chapter 163
The VIP room felt less like a sanctuary and more like a gilded cage—quiet, polished, suffocating. The soft lighting glowed against the ivory walls, stretching shadows into elegant shapes that whispered of money and power. Beyond the panoramic windows, the Thames shimmered under the midday sun, a living ribbon of molten silver cutting through the heart of London. Yet none of it reached Eliana.
Her gaze was locked on the bed in the center of the room.
Rafael lay there—unmoving, fragile, a ghost of the man who had once filled every space he walked into. The memory of him was still sharp in her mind: the sharp suits, the quiet authority in his voice, the way people seemed to bend toward him without even realizing it. Now, that same man looked… diminished.
He was propped against a mountain of pristine Egyptian cotton pillows, his tall frame swallowed by the sheets. The once-imposing lines of his shoulders seemed to have folded inward. His face, once carved with confidence and control, now bore the marks of sleepless nights and silent wars. Stubble shadowed his jaw, rough and uncharacteristic—proof of neglect. Strands of dark, wavy hair fell over his forehead, untamed, as if even his reflection no longer mattered.
The steady beeping of the heart monitor broke the silence, each sound a fragile assurance that he was still here, still breathing. The green lines on the screen pulsed and wavered like restless fireflies, tracing the rhythm of a heart that had once broken hers. Thin wires trailed across his chest beneath the loose folds of the hospital gown, glinting under the sterile lights.
Eliana drew in a slow breath. The air carried a faint metallic tang, the unmistakable scent of machines and disinfectant—a smell she’d come to associate with both healing and endings. It clung to her, cold and impersonal, reminding her that this room wasn’t meant for sentiment. Yet all she could feel was a weight pressing down on her chest, heavy and relentless.
This was Rafael—the man she had loved, feared, and tried to forget.
Eliana’s heart plummeted, a visceral drop that left her breathless. This wasn’t the Rafael who’d wielded sarcasm like a weapon, the one whose piercing gaze had unraveled her defenses. This was a broken man, weary and diminished, far from the ruthless puppet master she’d left three months ago. Tears pricked her eyes unbidden, a mix of pity, lingering love, and the sharp sting of betrayal. How could this be real? How had the world conspired to weave such a tangled web around them?
“Rafael?” Her voice emerged as a whisper, trembling with emotion. She took a tentative step forward, her hands clasped over her bump as if shielding her unborn child from the turmoil.
His eyes fluttered open—or at least, they tried to mimic the motion of a man regaining clouded sight. Behind the facade, Rafael’s heart raced, the monitor’s beeps quickening slightly. He’d heard her voice in his dreams these past months, a haunting melody that tormented his sleepless nights. Now, here she was, alive and radiant, her warm brown skin glowing under the room’s gentle lights, her expressive honey-brown eyes wide with shock. But he had to play the part, to draw her back with the very pity he’d orchestrated.
“Eliana?” His voice was husky, laced with feigned exhaustion and genuine longing. He shifted weakly on the bed, wincing as if the movement pained him, his large hands gripping the sheets. “Is that… really you? James said… but I thought… God, I thought you were gone p>
She froze midway across the room, the carpet muffling her steps. The dramatic weight of his words hung in the air, pulling at her kind-hearted nature like a siren’s call. “Gone? Rafael, what are you talking about? I’m right here. James just told me… about the accident, the cremation. It’s all lies—horrible, twisted lies p>
Rafael’s lips parted in mock surprise, his “clouded” eyes searching the space where her voice came from. Inside, his calculating mind whirred, assessing her every nuance—the way her voice cracked, the protective curve of her hand over her belly. “Lies? They showed me documents, Eliana. Sarai and Bianca they said he paused as if confused and shaken, “What about the hospital? They had proof. Your father… Henry… the hospital said they approved your cremation. I… I mourned you. Every day, it felt like a piece of me died too p>
Eliana’s legs felt like lead as she approached the bed, her natural elegance contrasting sharply with the opulent yet clinical surroundings. She sank into the chair beside him, her long curls brushing her shoulders as she leaned forward. “Mourned me? Rafael, do you have any idea what I’ve been through? I spent weeks trying to get you to talk to me but I was met by your cold attitude and rejection. The night before I left, I sent you that message about the baby, and you ignored it. I waited all night, all morning—nothing. So I left. Started over. And now this? Declared dead? It’s madness p>
He reached out a hand blindly, his fingers trembling until they found hers. The touch sent a jolt through both of them—electric, familiar, laden with unspoken history. “I saw the message too late, Eliana. I had stupidly broken my phone that night. By the time I read it, you had vanished. I searched everywhere. Hired people, turned the city upside down. And then… the news of your death. It broke me. My sight… it’s fading again. The stress, the doctors say. But seeing you—wait, hearing you—it’s like a miracle p>
Her heart ached, torn between skepticism and the emotional pull of his vulnerability. She squeezed his hand despite herself, her voice softening. “A miracle? Rafael, look at you. You’re thinner, weary. This isn’t the man I left—the one who hid behind walls of sarcasm and secrets p>
A wry smile tugged at his lips, a hint of his old sarcasm peeking through the facade. “Hiding? Maybe. But you cracked those walls, Eliana. You and this baby.” His free hand hovered near her bump, hesitating. “May I p>
She hesitated, her flaws surfacing—her naivety in love, her tendency to suffer in silence. But the hopeful smile she often hid behind won out. “Yes,” she murmured, guiding his hand to her belly.
The contact was intimate, stirring emotions neither could deny. Rafael’s eyes—secretly sharp—flickered with genuine awe beneath the pretense. “Our child,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I thought I’d lost you both p>
Eliana pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his face. “But you didn’t. I’m here, alive. And Henry… he’s been there for me, Rafael. Kind, steady. Not like the games you played p>
Rafael’s jaw tightened, jealousy flashing in his hidden gaze, but he masked it with a sigh. “Henry. The aspiring doctor from your past. I know about him now—from the reports. But Eliana, please—don’t let this be the end. I was a fool, detached, ruthless. But losing you… it changed me p>
Eliana’s breath trembled as she turned away from the bed, the weight of Rafael’s words pressing hard against her chest. She couldn’t look at him—not yet. The room suddenly felt too small, too heavy with memories she’d tried to bury. She walked to the window, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor, the sound a fragile defiance against the silence between them.
The view outside was breathtaking—London stretching endlessly, the Thames glinting like liquid glass under the pale sun—but her vision blurred as tears welled up, spilling before she could stop them. She pressed a hand to the window, the cool glass meeting her warm skin.
“Changed?” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of disbelief. She turned slowly to face him, eyes glistening with hurt and something dangerously close to anger. “How can I trust that, Rafael? After everything—the betrayal, the accusations, the way you looked at me like I was a stranger? How can I trust a man who walked away without even letting me speak my truth p>
Her voice broke on the last word, the silence that followed slicing through the room like glass.
Rafael struggled to sit up, wincing as if the movement sent a tremor through his weakened body. The monitor beside him began to beep faster, its green light pulsing in time with the tension between them. His hands clenched against the sheets, veins stark beneath pale skin. When he finally spoke, his voice was low—hoarse and stripped of pride.
“Trust?” he echoed. There was no arrogance in his voice, only exhaustion and regret. “I don’t deserve it. I know that. I don’t deserve you, Eliana.” He drew in a shaky breath, the words almost trembling out of him. “But I swear, I’ve changed. I see it all now—the pain I caused, the way I let my pride destroy what we had. I’m so sorry p>
He swallowed hard, his voice breaking as he added, “But please, just… give me a chance to prove it. Not for me. For the baby. For us p>
Eliana’s heart stuttered at the sound of that word—us. For a heartbeat, the walls around her heart wavered, trembling beneath the weight of everything they had been, everything they had lost. She wanted to believe him—God, she wanted to. But trust wasn’t a door she could simply reopen.
The monitor’s rhythmic beeping filled the silence again, soft and relentless, echoing the fragile rhythm of two hearts that once beat in perfect sync.
James poked his head in then, his voice tentative. “Everything alright in here p>
Eliana turned, wiping her eyes. “It’s… complicated, James. But yes p>
As the conversation hung in the balance, Eliana felt her growth arc stirring—a shift from hopeless romantic to a woman choosing herself. Yet the chains of love held tight, pulling her deeper into the drama.