Chapter 167
“Of course I do,” Eliana shot back, her voice rising, the words trembling between anger and hurt. “I saw him with my own two eyes, Henry. He could barely move. It wasn’t some act—I felt it. When I helped him back to bed, his body was trembling. You can’t fake that kind of weakness p>
Henry exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the unease clawing at him. “Eliana, I just His tone softened, but the strain beneath it was clear. “I worry, that’s all. Rafael’s history—it’s messy. You remember what happened back home, don’t you? The threats, the danger? What if this is all another one of his games—some way to pull you back in now that he’s realized you’re carrying his child p>
He leaned forward, his eyes darkening with a mix of frustration and helplessness. “Eliana, that man didn’t even want to hear from you. I was there. I saw it. He sent his security to throw you out of his company building like you were nothing. And when you went to his house in the rain, begging for just a few minutes of his time—he didn’t even open the door.” His voice broke slightly, the memory cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. “I stood there watching you, drenched, shivering, and still trying to defend him p>
Eliana’s jaw tightened. She shook her head slowly, her curls brushing against her cheeks as she fought to steady her voice. “You’re not being fair, Henry.” Her tone softened, but her resolve didn’t waver. “I know you’re trying to protect me, and I love you for that—but I was there this time. I saw the monitors, the IVs, the pain etched into his face. It wasn’t an act. It’s real p>
Her eyes glistened, not just from emotion but from the weight of it all—the conflict between what she knew, what she felt, and what she feared might still be true.
Henry forced a nod, swallowing the bitterness rising in his chest. Every instinct screamed at him to say more—to shake sense into her, to remind her of the danger Rafael had brought into her life—but he knew better. Pushing too hard would only drive her further away. So he forced a calm he didn’t feel.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “I get it. But promise me you’ll be careful, Eliana. Please. Don’t see him again—at least not without thinking it through first p>
Eliana exhaled slowly, her shoulders drooping as if the weight of his concern pressed down on her. “You worry too much, Henry,” she murmured, trying to sound lighthearted, but her voice came out tired instead. “I can handle this p>
She stood and began gathering the plates, her movements deliberate but distant, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. As she turned toward the kitchen, Henry reached out on impulse and caught her hand. His touch was hesitant—gentle, almost apologetic—but it stopped her in her tracks.
“Eliana, wait His voice was quiet, threaded with something vulnerable. When she turned, he looked up at her, his usual composure faltering. “Before you go… are you planning to go back to him? Now that you’ve seen him again p>
For a moment, silence hung heavy between them, filled only by the muffled sounds of London outside—the hum of cars, the distant rain against glass. Then Eliana’s expression softened, sorrow flickering through her honey-brown eyes. She looked down at their joined hands, then back at him.
“As much as I loved him,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of truth, “and maybe part of me still does… I can’t trust him with my heart again.” She drew in a shaky breath, her eyes glistening. “Not after everything that happened. The pain—Henry, it nearly destroyed me before we came to London. I won’t let it happen again p>
Henry’s hand lingered around hers, torn between wanting to pull her close and knowing he had no right to. So he let go, masking his ache behind a faint nod.
“I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” he said softly.
“I know,” she whispered, offering a small, tired smile. “That’s what makes you different p>
Relief swept through Henry like a quiet tide, though he masked it behind a gentle, understanding smile. Inside, his heart lifted—subtle but unmistakable. She wasn’t going back to Rafael. She wasn’t slipping away.
Without overthinking it, he finally stepped forward and pulled her into a soft embrace. His arms wrapped around her with quiet strength, steady and reassuring. The faint scent of her shampoo—lavender and something warm—filled the small space between them.
“Everything’s going to be alright,” he murmured into her hair, his voice low, almost fragile. “You’ve got me… and your father. We’re here for you, always p>
Eliana nodded against his shoulder, letting herself melt into the comfort of his warmth for just a moment longer. The embrace soothed her, yet somewhere deep inside, it sparked something else—a quiet resolve she hadn’t felt in months.
“Goodnight, Henry,” she said softly as she stepped back, her lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice gentle, though his gaze lingered as she turned away. He watched her climb the stairs slowly, one hand brushing the banister, the golden light from the hallway spilling over her figure before she disappeared around the corner.
For a moment, Henry just stood there, his chest tight, torn between hope and restraint. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair, the ghost of her warmth still clinging to his shirt.
Upstairs, Eliana paused by her bedroom door. The house was quiet—too quiet. She pressed a hand over her belly, feeling the faint flutter beneath her palm.
No, she wouldn’t go back to Rafael. That part of her heart was done bleeding. But he was still the father of her child, and no matter what he’d done, she couldn’t turn her back on him now.
The baby deserved to know its father.
And as she stood there in the soft hush of the London night, Eliana whispered to herself, almost like a promise—
“I’ll help him… but I won’t lose myself again p>