Stella was startled when hot water splashed onto her hand, pulling her out of her daze. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed her hand lingering too long under the hot water dispenser. The pain from the burn was sharp and immediate, but it did little to ease the ache in her chest. She glanced up to see Yvonne, who had been watching her closely.
Seeing the dejected look on Stella’s face, Yvonne understood what had happened. She didn’t press the issue further, sensing that it was a topic Stella wasn’t ready to discuss. Instead, she asked with a softer tone, “You haven’t found a place to stay yet, have you?”
Stella nodded, a quiet grunt the only reply. “I’ll stay at a nearby hotel for now and take my time looking for a place.”
Her job as a trainer at the art school was quite lucrative, and Yvonne was generous, offering her commissions. Over the past year, Stella had saved up a bit, but the relentless medical bills for her brother, Roger, made it hard to truly feel secure. Still, Stella was determined to work hard for the sake of her growing family, especially now that she was pregnant.
Yvonne leaned against the water dispenser, her concern clear in her eyes. “If you run into any problems, don’t hesitate to let me know. I like you as a person, and we’re working together, so there’s no need for you to hold back.”
Stella wiped the spilled water from the table with a tissue and gave her a faint smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Yvonne was a straightforward woman with a beautiful appearance, and though she could come off as intimidating, Stella knew her to be loyal and kind-hearted. Yvonne wouldn’t force the issue, so she patted Stella’s shoulder before leaving without saying another word.
Stella turned back to the reddened patch on the back of her hand, the scalded skin throbbing. The pain felt like it was spreading through her veins, intensifying the ache in her chest. Every thought of Weston and the life they had shared left a painful sting. But she couldn’t afford to wallow in the past; she had to wait until work was over before she could finally allow herself a good cry.
Meanwhile, at the Cohen family mansion, preparations for Weston and Guinevere’s upcoming marriage were in full swing. The two families were growing closer, and with Weston’s parents still abroad, Weston found himself spending most of his time at the Cohen family estate. He stood on the balcony, rubbing his forehead, the weariness of the situation catching up with him.
The door to his room opened, and Guinevere entered with a smile, her hand gripping the door frame for support.
“Can’t I see you without a reason?” she asked, her voice playful but edged with something else.
Despite the impending wedding and her growing pregnancy, they still hadn’t shared a room. Guinevere’s mother had assumed they would sleep together, but when Weston had insisted on using the guest room, the Cohen family had seemed taken aback. Guinevere, irritated by this, had refused to speak to him for days, but it was Grandma Cohen who had convinced her with a few words.
“Think about it,” Grandma Cohen had said. “You’re not married yet, so it makes sense to sleep separately. Weston is still young and full of energy, but you’re pregnant. What if something happens?”
Guinevere had blushed, and although she appreciated the gesture, there was a bitter feeling lingering within her. The irony of their situation — already having a child but still adhering to old-fashioned traditions — wasn’t lost on her.
She watched Weston, standing tall and proud on the balcony, looking as dignified as ever in a simple white shirt. His sharp features and commanding presence seemed to draw attention even without his wealth or status.
She walked over and hugged him from behind, pressing her stomach against his back. “Weston… we haven’t been intimate since that night. I had too much to drink, so I don’t really remember what happened. If it wasn’t for the pregnancy, I would’ve thought it was all just a dream…”
Weston stiffened under her touch, and she immediately felt the coldness between them. Her heart sank, and she released him reluctantly. She closed her eyes, trying to push past her frustration, and muttered, “I’m six months in now. The doctor says it’s fine as long as we’re careful. I want…”
“This isn’t important,” Weston interrupted, his voice gentle but distant. “Gwen, there’s no need to take any risks.”
His words, meant to be comforting, only served to freeze her heart. She pulled back, feeling a sense of loneliness. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re right. We have plenty of time ahead of us. No need to rush.”
But deep inside, Guinevere couldn’t help but wonder. Was Weston as abstinent with Stella as he was with her? Had they… been intimate during their marriage? She couldn’t shake the thought, and the question gnawed at her.
After moving out of Stardust Mansion, Stella rented a modest two-room apartment near the art school. The space was small, and despite calling it a two-room apartment, it was really just one room with a partition to separate the living area from the small bedroom. The rent was affordable, and although the apartment was simple, it was enough for now. She would find a better place after Roger was discharged, but for the time being, she didn’t need anything extravagant.
Life had settled into a quiet rhythm, and at last, Weston reached out to finalize their divorce. The Civil Affairs Bureau appointment was set for 2 p.m., and Stella arrived promptly, though Weston didn’t appear until 2:15. When he stepped out of his sleek black Maybach, it wasn’t just Weston who emerged — Guinevere was with him, looking stunning as always, her pregnancy now very visible. She staggered slightly as she stepped out of the car, and Weston was there to support her, his actions showing the care and protectiveness he hadn’t shown toward Stella in a long time.
“Sorry, did you wait long?” Guinevere asked as she walked over, her tone soft but laced with a subtle sense of entitlement. “We could have been on time, but we were delayed because of me…”
Stella glanced at them, her expression neutral. “Let’s get to business.”
Weston met her gaze for a moment, but when he saw no sign of emotion on her face, he averted his gaze and followed her inside without another word.
The divorce procedure was just as simple as their marriage had been. There was no fanfare, no lingering feelings, just the paperwork. Stella glanced at the divorce certificate, now marked in red. It seemed fitting, but somewhere deep inside, she felt that green would have been more appropriate for the emotions she was struggling to contain.
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