Roman and Julienne's heart desire
Chapter 84: My heart aches when I see you worried Roman.

Chapter 84: My heart aches when I see you worried Roman.

"Good morning, love," Roman said softly, bending down and brushing his lips against her forehead.

His voice was low and warm, like sunlight through thick curtains.

"Ehm," Julie stirred under the sheets, her voice groggy, still wrapped in sleep.

Her lashes fluttered, and slowly, her eyes opened to meet his.

"Good morning," she murmured, a sleepy smile blooming on her lips.

Roman’s own lips curled upward gently in response, his gaze lingering on her face longer than necessary.

He had woken up earlier, dressed in a black athletic tracksuit that outlined his tall figure, hair brushed and slick, yet slightly disheveled by his own hand as he ran it through while thinking.

He looked sharper than usual, as though he’d already dealt with something serious.

"You’re well-dressed. Is there something urgent?" Julie asked, propping herself on her elbow, her eyes blinking fully awake now. She sounded genuinely curious.

Roman shook his head, the corners of his mouth still pulled into a soft smile.

"I’ve already done that. I’m back now," he replied, his voice calm but layered.

He reached out to move a strand of her hair from her cheek, letting his fingers linger a second too long.

"So, why not start our training today, hmm? Since you don’t have any lectures to attend."

He cocked a brow as he said it, waiting for her reaction.

Julie’s face lit up, childlike, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes! Let me brush my teeth," she said quickly and kicked off the covers, her bare feet softly thudding against the marble tiles as she rushed to the bathroom.

Roman watched in silence, the soft click of the bathroom door closing behind her echoing slightly in the room.

His expression shifted almost immediately.

His gaze, now fixed on the floor, darkened.

His brows furrowed. _{fre ewe bnove l.com}

Rachel’s words from earlier played like a whisper in his head.

"She is not my sister not a Jenkins," Rachel voice rang in his head till he leave the park earlier.

Knowing her name is Jenkins not Wilson didn’t shock him because he already knows that, than saying she is not the Jenkins at all.

A bitter grimace pulled at his lips.

His throat tightened slightly as he muttered under his breath, "Then who’s child are you, my heart’s desire?"

’Then does she knows that is that why she tell me she is a Wilson or Jenkins," Roman said to one alone in the room.

There was no one else in the room, but his voice held a cracked softness, like he didn’t want to hear his own doubt out loud.

Sadness painted across his features like fog on glass, his usual composure fraying quietly.

A click from the bathroom door snapped him from the spiraling thoughts.

"I’m ready," Julie announced, emerging with a towel still draped over her shoulders, her hair slightly damp, face fresh.

But the second she saw Roman’s expression—shadowed and distant—her smile faltered.

His eyes were lost in thought, and though he noticed her presence, he didn’t shift quickly enough.

Julie’s chest tightened.

He always noticed her but today he seems worried and that make her heart aches.

She walked to his side slowly, sat beside him on the edge of the bed, the sheets rustling faintly.

Then, she mirrored his usual way—calm, steady, intuitively.

Not just because she has no special way for treating him but because women are mirror of your actions men.

She gently took his hand, lacing her fingers with his.

Her gaze was soft and searching, brows drawn together in concern.

Roman’s eyes met hers for a heartbeat before shifting away.

"Are you alright? Is something wrong? What’s making you worried?" Julie asked quietly, voice careful, her touch grounding him.

Before he could form an answer, she continued, gently rubbing her thumb across the back of his hand.

"Is there something I can help with? Please tell me. Don’t keep it all inside. My heart aches when I see you like this, Roman."

That made him smile faintly. Her words always had a way of reaching into him and turning on the lights in rooms he’d locked up.

"Okay, calm down," he said softly, cupping her hand now.

Julie looked at him, still waiting.

"There’s nothing wrong, love. I’m just... thinking of something work-related," he lied, his tone light but careful, not wanting to ruin their morning.

Julie nodded slowly, clearly not fully convinced, but choosing to trust him.

"Alright," she said, but before he could even change the subject, she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his forehead—just as he had done to her earlier.

The touch made his breath hitch slightly. It was so tender, so innocent... and so full of love.

Roman chuckled lightly, trying to lift the mood. "Should we try it?"

Julie tilted her head, smiling with soft amusement. "What shall we try?"

Roman didn’t answer.

Instead, he leaned in—slowly, deliberately—his eyes locked on hers.

Julie’s breath caught as his face came closer.

Her heartbeat stumbled, unsure whether to panic or melt.

’He wants a kiss,’ she thought, eyes wide, her lips parting slightly. But to Roman’s utter surprise, she didn’t pull away.

She leaned in too.

He paused, almost frozen as her lips gently pressed against his.

She kissed him—tentative and soft, like she was trying something fragile for the first time.

She pulled back after a moment, but as she did, Roman’s hand slid behind her head, guiding her back in, slow but firm.

"Rom—" she tried to speak his name, but he hushed her with a finger before taking her lips again, deeper now.

Without hesitation, he kissed her, long and consuming.

His hand slid to the side of her neck, pulling her closer.

Julie let out a breathless sound, surprised by the way his kiss made her feel—like a firework igniting in a quiet room.

His mouth moved against hers with slow purpose, as if praying through every second.

His tongue brushed hers gently at first, then more boldly, tasting her, devouring her.

Julie’s fingers clutched lightly at the fabric of his shirt.

When he finally pulled back, her chest rose and fell rapidly.

Her lips were pink and slightly swollen, her eyes glassy with something she couldn’t yet name.

Roman didn’t speak at first. He only watched her as she blinked, then slowly lowered her gaze, staring at her open palms as though they held answers to questions she didn’t even know how to ask.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently, his thumb brushing her cheek again with tenderness.

"I’m alright," Julie replied, her voice soft and slightly hoarse. Still, she didn’t look at him.

Roman’s smile curled just a little. "Did you like it?"

Julie’s eyes lifted for a brief second—then darted away again.

A flush crept over her cheeks as she stood, quickly changing the subject.

"Let’s go start training. You know time flies."

Roman smirked. He didn’t press the question.

The blush on her face gave him all the answer he needed.

"Yes, time flies. Let’s go train," he agreed, rising to his feet and walking to the door.

He pulled it open with a slight bow, his tone playful. "After you, Mrs. Thompson."

Julie rolled her eyes but smiled, stepping out into the quiet hallway.

Sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting long golden strips across the marble floors.

The air smelled faintly of citrus wood polish and blooming jasmine from the indoor garden.

Their steps echoed softly as they walked toward the training room, located in one of the villa’s secluded corners.

Inside, the room was pristine—lined with polished wooden floors, neatly arranged equipment, and a wide mirrored wall.

The air was still, almost reverent, like a chapel built for strength and focus.

"I’ll change and come back," Julie said, slipping into one of the changing stalls tucked into the corner.

Roman nodded and moved into the opposite one, unzipping his tracksuit and changing into a simple black half vest and sweatpants.

He rolled his shoulders, warming up his muscles with small stretches.

By the time he stepped out, she was still inside.

Roman walked over to the punching bag and adjusted the straps of his gloves.

Just as he lifted his arm, the soft click of the door knob caught his attention.

He turned.

And paused.

Julie stepped out in black workout leggings and a white crop top.

Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, a few strands framing her face.

Her body moved with quiet confidence, unaware of the effect she had on him.

Roman stood still, eyes trailing over her.

’ All those curves... all this shape... and they’re mine? Seriously, I can’t believe it,’ he thought, a slow, boyish smirk rising.

Julie noticed immediately.

"What are you smiling at?" she asked, walking toward him. She tilted her head, squinting slightly with a teasing expression.

She stopped just inches away, hands resting lightly on her hips.

Her voice was playful, but her eyes gleamed with real curiosity.

Roman didn’t even try to hide it.

""Who wouldn’t smile if God gifted him such a wife?" Roman said, still smiling as he raised his face and caressed her cheek lovingly."

Julie’s cheeks flushed. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the crooked smile that tugged at her lips.

The warmth in her chest was impossible to ignore.

Without a word, she turned and walked to the center of the training floor.

—

Back at the abandoned park, silence still lingered, thick and mocking.

Rachel groaned as her body shifted on the cold concrete, each movement sending sharp pricks of pain through her limbs.

Her hair stuck to her forehead, tangled and grimy. One shoe had slipped off during the night.

Her voice was dry—broken from hours of screaming into an empty park.

She blinked slowly, light piercing her eyes as the sun lifted higher in the sky.

"Help..." she croaked, barely audible. Her throat burned. She coughed, then gritted her teeth and tried again.

"Help!" she screamed louder, her voice cracking in desperation.

The wind blew lightly, rustling the leaves, but there was no answer.

Rachel pulled herself up to sit, hands trembling as she braced herself against the pavement.

Tears pricked her eyes.He left me here. He really dumped me here like trash.

Do you expect him to return you back to where he kidnapped you.

The humiliation burned hotter than her bruises. She wasn’t used to being discarded. Not her. Never her.

She screamed again, louder, hoarser.

"Help! Please—anyone! Help!"

Still nothing.

She hit the ground with her fist, frustration and fear building in equal measure.

Then—

Footsteps.

Distant, slow, rhythmic.

Her head snapped up, eyes scanning the empty path beyond the gate.

The old gatekeeper returned, a flask of tea in one hand, keys clinking in the other as he walked back from his breakfast break.

He hummed an off-tune melody, completely unaware of what awaited.

Rachel’s ears caught the sound. Her pulse quickened.

"Help!" she cried, louder now, struggling to get up on weak legs. "Please! I’m here!"

The man paused. His humming stopped.

He squinted, frowning at the voice. Then, cautiously, he walked closer.

—

Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Logan pushed open the apartment door, wiping sweat from his brow after his morning jog.

"Rachel?" he called casually, tossing his gym bag aside and heading toward the kitchen.

Silence.

He frowned.

He stepped into the hallway. No running water. No music. No perfume.

He peeked into the bedroom. The bed was untouched.

Her shoes were gone.

Her phone wasn’t on the table.

He checked the time.

"Rachel?" he called again, louder now, unease beginning to settle in.

Still nothing.

He walked to the window and scanned the street. Nothing unusual. The sidewalk was empty.

His jaw clenched slightly as he pulled out his phone—no missed calls. No texts.

"She said she’d follow right after," he muttered, pacing now. "Where the hell did she go?"

His chest tightened—not quite panic, but something close.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked toward the front door again.

Something didn’t feel right.