Chapter 190
Elena: POV
I stared at the container in his hands, my jaw tightening.
"I told you to leave," I said, my voice flat.
Julian set the container on the bedside table, his movements careful, deliberate. "You did. And I said I wasn't leaving the hospital." He pulled the visitor's chair closer. "Lila hasn't eaten since this morning. Neither have you."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him I didn't need his charity, his concern, his presence. But the mention of Lila made me hesitate. I glanced at my daughter, still curled up in the chair, her small chest rising and falling in deep sleep.
She had been through hell today. The cemetery. My fall. The ambulance. All of it.
And she was only four years old.
"Lila spent hours sitting by your bed," Julian continued, his voice low. "She refused to leave. Refused to eat. She kept asking when you'd wake up." He paused, and I heard the crack in his composure. "I told her you would. That you'd be okay. But I didn't know if I was lying."
I forced myself to look at him.
He looked like shit. His shirt was wrinkled and stained with mud from when I'd fallen. There was dried blood on his collar. His hair was disheveled, his jaw shadowed with stubble. Dark circles hollowed his eyes.
He looked like a man who'd been to hell and back.
Good, I thought bitterly. He should suffer.
But then I thought of Lila. Of how she must have felt, watching me unconscious and bleeding.
"Fine," I said curtly. "Wake her up. She needs to eat."
Julian's shoulders sagged with visible relief. He crossed to Lila's chair, crouching beside her. His hand hovered over her shoulder for a moment before he gently shook her awake.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, his voice impossibly tender. "Wake up. It's time for dinner."
Lila stirred, her eyelids fluttering. When she saw Julian, she blinked in confusion. Then her gaze darted to me, and her face crumpled.
"Mommy!" She scrambled out of the chair and ran to my bedside, her small hands clutching the blanket. "You're awake! You're okay!"
I reached out, smoothing her hair back from her tear-streaked face. "I'm okay, baby. I'm right here."
She climbed onto the bed, carefully avoiding the IV line, and buried her face in my shoulder. I held her, breathing in the familiar scent of her strawberry shampoo, and felt something in my chest crack open.
Julian cleared his throat. "I got her favorite. Chicken tenders and fries from that place on Fifth."
Lila lifted her head, sniffling. "The one with the smiley face ketchup?"
"The very same."
Despite everything, I felt a flicker of surprise. He'd remembered.
Don't soften, I told myself. Don't let him in.
Julian opened the container, revealing perfectly golden chicken tenders and crispy fries. He set it on the rolling table and adjusted it so Lila could reach.
"Eat," he said gently. "Your mom needs to see you eat, okay?"
Lila hesitated, looking at me for permission. I nodded, and she picked up a fry, nibbling on it half-heartedly.
Julian pulled a second container from the bag—plain chicken broth with tender pieces of white meat and soft carrots. He set it in front of me without a word.
I stared at it. "I'm not hungry."
"You need to eat," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "Doctor's orders."
"I don't care what the doctor—"
"Mommy!" Lila interrupted, her voice taking on that sweet, pleading tone she used when she really wanted something. She put her small hands on my arm, looking up at me with those big, earnest eyes. "You haven't eaten anything all day! If you don't eat, Lila will be really, really sad."
She tilted her head, her lower lip jutting out slightly. "Please, Mommy? For Lila?"
My throat tightened. How could I say no to that face?
"Okay, baby," I said softly, picking up the spoon. "For you."
The first spoonful of the broth was warm and soothing. By the third, I realized how empty my stomach actually was.
Julian sat back in his chair, watching us in silence.
She chattered between bites, her earlier fear giving way to relief. "Mommy, the sad uncle stayed with me the whole time. He told me stories. And he said you'd wake up soon, and he was right!"
I glanced at Julian. He was staring at Lila with an expression I couldn't quite name. Longing? Regret? Love?
"Did he?" I said carefully.
Lila nodded enthusiastically. "He told me about a princess who got lost in a big forest. And she was really brave, and she found her way home all by herself. And then she had a baby, and the baby was the bravest princess in the whole world."
My throat tightened. I didn't need to ask who the "baby" in the story was supposed to be.
"That's a nice story," I managed.
Lila beamed. "I know! And he said—" She paused, her brow furrowing. "He said the princess's prince was really, really sorry he didn't help her when she was lost. And he wanted to make it better, but he didn't know how."
I set down my spoon, my appetite vanishing.
Julian's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away from Lila. "Did I say that?"
"Uh-huh." Lila nodded solemnly. "You said the prince was really sad. And he cried."
The room went very still.
I looked at Julian. His eyes were red-rimmed, his expression raw.
He had cried. For Lila. For me.
For everything he'd destroyed.
But crying didn't change the past. It didn't erase the pain. It didn't bring back the child I'd lost or the years I'd spent believing I was someone else.
"Lila," I said softly. "Why don't you finish your dinner?"
She nodded and went back to her chicken tenders, oblivious to the tension crackling between Julian and me.
I forced myself to take another spoonful of broth. For Lila.
After Lila finished eating, she started to droop again, her eyelids heavy. Julian stood, his movements stiff.
"She should sleep," he said quietly.
"She can sleep here." I patted the bed beside me. "There's room."
Julian hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
He nodded and stepped back. I shifted over, wincing as the movement pulled at my aching head, and Lila climbed up beside me. She curled into my side, her small body warm and solid against mine.
"Goodnight, Mommy," she murmured, already half-asleep.
"Goodnight, baby."
Within minutes, her breathing evened out.
Julian stood by the window, his back to me. He was giving me space, I realized. Trying not to crowd me.
It should have made me feel better.
It didn't.
"You can leave now," I said quietly.
“I'm not leaving. I'll stay in the chair. I need to know you're both safe.” he said stubbornly.
"I don't need you here."
"But I want to be here," he said.
Unable to stand his shamelessness, I replied, "Whatever. Do what you want."
But as I drifted toward sleep, one thought echoed in my mind:
I needed to find a way to get away from him before I lost myself completely.