Stella felt a faint sense of relief settle in her chest. Fortunately, the man from earlier had already driven away. If Weston had seen him, she knew the situation would’ve spiraled out of control.
But her moment of silence didn’t go unnoticed. Weston’s expression darkened as he stared at her. “So, was it him? The man from before? Or… was it Justin?”
She let out a sigh, irritated by his possessive tone. “No. It wasn’t him. But either way, who I see is none of your business.”
Weston’s voice lowered, his sharp edges softening with a disarming calm. “Must you always act so distant? Even now, after everything?”
His gaze stayed fixed on her, his eyes full of things he wasn’t saying. “You’re not stupid, Stella. You know exactly what you’re doing.”
His words sent a chill down her spine. She hated how familiar his tone felt—smooth, calculated, and always making her question her stance. She could feel him trying to pull her back in.
She took a step away, but Weston moved closer, lifting her chin gently with a finger. “Do you really think you can leave just like that?” he whispered. “Do you think you can cut ties so easily, start over, as if none of this ever happened?”
There was a warning in his voice, low and possessive. “Don’t let me see you getting close to another man again. And don’t try to hide it from me. I always find out.”
Stella stared at him, her chest rising and falling. She bit down on her lip, trying to suppress the storm inside. “You’ve got a wife and a son now. You’re living the life you chose. And I—” her voice caught, but she steadied herself—“I’m just someone you used to be married to. Someone you abandoned. You have no right to make demands of me.”
Her words were sharp, each one carefully measured. “Have you already forgotten what I went through? Or are you trying to make me relive it again?”
Weston’s expression tensed.
“You forced me to give up my child,” she continued, her voice hollow. “And when I stood on that rooftop, when I lost everything—I was alone. You weren’t there. You didn’t come.”
She took a shaky breath, trying to keep herself together. “I see my child in my dreams, Weston. Bloodied. Lifeless. Every time I try to move forward, you show up and drag me back. So if I’m trying to start over, it’s because you left me no choice.”
Her words struck him, but he didn’t retreat. Instead, he let out a bitter laugh, slow and disbelieving.
“I suppose you’re right,” he said, voice laced with cold irony. “Maybe I am despicable. But so what? I’m a man who can’t stand to see his ex-wife smile at someone else. I can’t stand to see her happier without me.”
“You’re shameless.”
“How many times have I told you?” he said, his expression twisting into something unreadable. “I never claimed to be anything else.”
Stella raised her hand, emotions boiling over. But before her palm could reach him, he caught her wrist. He didn’t hold it tightly—just enough to stop her.
“Of course I’m shameless,” he said quietly. “And right now, what I want the most… is you. Isn’t it obvious?”
His gaze locked onto hers, full of intensity. She trembled. Not out of fear, but from the unbearable pressure of his presence. It was like being trapped in a room with no windows, no exits.
She turned her head away, lips trembling. Her complexion had lost all color. That’s when he noticed—the way she was biting her lip so hard it had turned red. The way her whole body was trembling under the weight of his words.
Something shifted in him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, suddenly uncertain. “Open your mouth. You’re hurting yourself.”
She refused to answer.
He reached out again, more gently this time, trying to touch her lips, to coax her. “Stella, stop it. You’ll make it worse.”
She looked up at him, her expression calm but distant—almost unrecognizable.
“Do you still care if I’m in pain?” she asked quietly. “This small hurt means nothing. It’s not even a thousandth of what you’ve done to me.”
Her voice was soft but cutting. Weston froze.
She stared at him with cold eyes, the kind that no longer saw him as someone who mattered. He searched her face, desperate to find even a flicker of emotion—love, anger, anything.
But there was nothing. Just silence.
And it terrified him.
He didn’t know when she started looking at him like that. Maybe it was the day he filed for divorce. Maybe it was the day she lost their child. Or maybe it was much earlier—when he stopped listening to her, stopped protecting her.
He couldn’t remember the exact moment the light in her eyes went out. Maybe there wasn’t one. Maybe it was a slow, quiet collapse that he hadn’t even noticed until now.
And even though he finally wanted to understand—finally wanted to fix what he’d broken—he was starting to realize something far worse.
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