Chapter 62 Promises in the Dark
Elena: POV
"Promise me you'll try to trust me," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Not just about the baby. About everything. Stop assuming the worst. Stop believing her over me. Just... try."
Julian stared at me for a long moment, his gray eyes searching mine like he was looking for something he couldn't name.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
"I promise," he said quietly. "I'll try, Elena. I swear I'll try."
Julian reached up, his hand gentle as he touched my forehead. His fingers were warm, almost tender, as they brushed against my skin.
"I'll work on it," he murmured. "I'll change. For you. For our baby."
Our baby. The words still sounded foreign coming from his mouth.
He pulled back, running a hand through his damp hair. "I should... I need to take a cold shower. Clear my head."
I watched as he stood, his body still tense, muscles coiled tight beneath his wet clothes. Water dripped from his shirt onto the hospital floor, leaving small puddles.
"Julian." I caught his hand before he could move away. "Don't take a cold shower. Not in this weather. You'll get sick."
He looked down at our joined hands, then back at my face. Something flickered in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or surprise.
"Worried about me?" His lips curved slightly.
"Someone has to be." I tried to sound dismissive, but it came out softer than I intended. "I don't want you catching pneumonia on top of everything else."
Julian moved closer to the bed, his free hand coming up to cup my face. His thumb brushed my cheekbone, the touch sending unwanted shivers down my spine.
"Are you saying you want to help me?" His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Help me... solve this problem?"
Heat flooded my cheeks. "That's not what I—"
But he was already leaning down, his mouth capturing mine before I could finish.
The kiss was different this time. Not brutal or demanding. Slow. Deep. Thorough.
His lips moved against mine with deliberate patience, like he was savoring every second. His tongue swept into my mouth, gentle but insistent, exploring, tasting, claiming.
I should have pushed him away. Should have reminded him this wasn't the time or place.
Instead, my hands fisted in his wet shirt, pulling him closer.
He groaned against my mouth—a low, desperate sound—and his hand tangled in my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss further. His other hand splayed across my lower back, pressing me flush against him despite the hospital gown between us.
I felt dizzy. Overwhelmed. Like I was drowning again.
His lips left mine, trailing kisses along my jaw, down to that sensitive spot below my ear. I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
"Julian—" His name came out as a whimper.
"Shh." He nipped at my earlobe gently, then soothed it with his tongue. "Just let me."
His mouth returned to mine, and this time the kiss was deeper. More intense. His tongue stroked against mine in long, languid movements that made my toes curl.
I could taste him—coffee and mint and something uniquely Julian that I'd never been able to describe. Could feel the way his body trembled slightly, like he was holding back.
When he finally pulled away, we were both breathing hard. His forehead pressed against mine, his eyes closed.
"Fuck," he breathed. "I've been thinking about doing that all week."
My throat was tight. "Julian—"
"I know." He kissed me again, quick and sweet this time. "I know. But Elena..." His eyes opened, meeting mine. "My body's strong. Don't worry about a cold shower. You've seen what I'm capable of in bed."
The casual arrogance in his tone should have annoyed me. Instead, it almost made me smile.
"Go," I said quietly. "Before you change your mind about that shower."
He stood, but not before pressing one last kiss to my forehead. "I'll be back in five minutes."
I watched him disappear into the bathroom, heard the sound of water running. Then I was alone with my thoughts.
Did I just agree to give him another chance?
The question rattled around my head. Part of me screamed that I was being an idiot. That nothing had really changed. That he'd just said pretty words to get what he wanted.
But another part—the part that had loved him for sixteen years—whispered that maybe, just maybe, this time could be different.
For the baby, I told myself firmly. You're doing this for the baby.
---
The door opened softly, and I looked up, expecting Julian.
Instead, Josephine stood in the doorway. My mother.
My breath caught.
Her face was unnaturally pale—not just tired, but ashen, like all the color had been drained from her skin. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, making them look sunken and hollow.
Her cheekbones stood out more sharply than I remembered, and there was a thinness to her features that hadn't been there before.
She looked older somehow. Frailer. Like the weight of everything had finally caught up with her.
But it was more than that. Something about the pallor of her skin, the slight tremor in her hands as she gripped the doorframe—it sent a chill through me.
"Mom." The word came out thick with emotion and sudden worry.
She crossed to the bed quickly, though I noticed she moved more carefully than usual, as if each step required extra effort. Her hands found mine, squeezing tight, and I felt how cold her fingers were.
"Elena." Her voice cracked. "Baby, how are you feeling?"
"I'm okay," I whispered, studying her face more closely. The pallor. The weight loss I could now see in the way her clothes hung slightly looser. "We're okay. Me and the baby."
Josephine's eyes—red-rimmed from crying—filled with fresh tears. "A baby. My baby's having a baby." She pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I felt how her lips trembled against my skin. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was scared." The confession tumbled out. "I didn't know what to do. Julian said I wasn't worthy of carrying his child, and I thought—I thought if he found out, he'd make me—"
"Shh." She pulled me into her arms, careful of the IV. "It's okay. You're safe now."
We sat like that for a long moment, just holding each other. And in that embrace, I felt it—the way her body seemed frailer than it should be, the slight wheeze in her breathing she was trying to hide.
Something's wrong, my mind whispered. Something's very wrong.
When she pulled back, I studied her face again, fear making my voice shake. "Mom, are you okay? You look—"
"I'm fine, sweetheart." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Just tired. It's been a long night."
Really? ‘But why do I feel like she doesn't look this way just from staying up late?’
"Julian told me," she said quietly, changing the subject. "About the baby. About everything."