My Cold-Hearted Husband Wants Me Back
Chapter 115: The Man

Chapter 115: The Man

Eryx was driving like crazy. While his eyes stayed on the road, he glanced to the right and left every few seconds, just in case Lunara was walking along the side.

His phone buzzed suddenly. Without taking his hands off the wheel, he connected the call through the car’s Bluetooth.

"Sir," Callum’s voice came through, slightly distorted but clear enough. "I found the last trace of Madam. CCTV caught her walking toward the north hill... alone."

Eryx’s jaw tightened.

"North hill? How long ago?" he asked, his voice clipped.

"Almost two hours now."

"Send me the exact coordinates," Eryx ordered.

"Already done, sir. I’ll keep checking in case she moves."

"Thanks," Eryx said, disconnecting the call before Callum could say more.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, knuckling white as the car surged forward. Two hours. Anything could’ve happened in two hours.

The North Hill wasn’t a place people casually wandered to. Not unless they were looking for space, or escape.

His chest ached at the thought.

The familiar roads turned to curves and slopes as he left the city behind. Tall trees lined the narrowing path, their shadows stretching across the asphalt in the fading light.

When the hill finally came into view, he didn’t even bother to park properly. The car jerked to a stop on the gravel edge, one tire halfway off the road. He jumped out, barely slamming the door before sprinting uphill.

"Lunara!" he shouted, breath ragged, voice snatched by the wind.

The incline burned through his legs, but he didn’t stop. Every second fed the panic clawing at his chest. His eyes swept the hilltop but it was empty. No movement. No sign of her.

"Damn it," he muttered, spinning around, scanning every corner again, hand yanking through his hair.

Then, a flicker of movement. Just barely.

Behind a tree.

He stepped closer, squinting. There was someone sitting there. Still. Head leaning back against the bark. Eyes closed.

Lunara.

Eryx’s chest tightened and the panic was still there, but now it cut deeper. A darker fear crept in, one he didn’t dare name. What if...

No. He didn’t even want to think about it.

He hurried toward her, footsteps crunching against the grass and gravel. But just as he was closing the distance, his eyes caught the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest.

She was breathing.

Relief crashed into him like a wave. He stopped just a few steps away, exhaling for the first time in what felt like hours. His hands dropped to his sides, fists unclenching.

She looked so tired. As if sleep had claimed her the moment the tears ran dry. Her face was peaceful, but there were remains of the storm, the red around her eyes, the dried trail of tears on her cheeks, the way her fingers curled slightly, like she was still holding on to something even in sleep.

Eryx crouched beside her, hesitant at first. "Lunara," he said softly.

She didn’t stir.

He reached out slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It’s me," he whispered, voice low, almost afraid to break whatever fragile moment this was. "I was worried sick."

Still no response.

He sighed and settled beside her, not touching, just close enough so she’d know she wasn’t alone when she woke. The wind brushed past them, quieter now. Feeling the evening chill growing stronger, Eryx slipped off his suit jacket and gently draped it over her.

Then he crouched down, carefully slipping his hands under her to lift her, just enough to carry her back without waking her too roughly.

But the moment his hands touched her, Lunara’s eyes flew open.

"No! No! Don’t touch me!" she cried out, her voice panicked and cracked with fear.

She pushed him away with shaking arms, scrambling back against the tree trunk as if she wasn’t sure where she was. Her chest heaved. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, darted around before locking onto Eryx.

"Lunara..." he said carefully, his hands raised to show he wasn’t going to hurt her. "It’s me. Hey, look at me. You’re safe."

But she didn’t seem to hear him right away. Her lips quivered, the trauma still fresh in her eyes. Whatever she’d just seen in her dream or remembered had pulled her back to a place far worse than this hill. The memory that she almost forgot the moment Eryx entered her life again.

Her chest heaving up and down fast, and her head was still turning as she was confused. "Where am I?"

Eryx crouched lower, careful not to startle her further.

"You’re safe," he said softly. "You’re on the hill. It’s okay, Lunara. It is just me."

Her eyes darted around, panic still flickering in them, but she slowly focused on his face. Her breath was still shaky, chest rising and falling too fast.

He didn’t move closer, just let her look, let her see him.

"I guess you are having a bad dream," he added, quieter. "But it’s over now."

Lunara blinked. Once. Twice. The wind blew through her tangled hair, and she finally seemed to return to herself. "I—I thought I was back there," she whispered. Her voice cracked on the last word. "That room. That night."

Lunara’s hands trembled slightly as she gripped the edges of the jacket, still lost in the memory she didn’t want to face.

"I’m not sure why I keep dreaming about it," she whispered, her voice softer now, barely audible against the wind. "I thought I’d buried it... that night, that place."

Eryx didn’t push. He stayed quiet, letting her have the space she needed.

"But this time, I almost saw the man’s face," she mumbled, her voice trembling as the dream lingered in her mind.

Eryx frowned, his voice tight with restraint. "Which man?"

Lunara slowly lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes distant, haunted by a memory that still clung to her. "The man who saved me... the day I almost became the victim..." Her words faltered, choking on the weight of what she couldn’t say.

The silence between them stretched, thick and suffocating, as her gaze seemed to search for something beyond him. Eryx’s pulse quickened, his throat tightening, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask more. In that moment, he wished he could erase whatever past she was carrying, but he couldn’t. He was too late, too late to come into her life.

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