“Endure what I give you now, and you won’t have to suffer more than necessary.”
Weston’s voice was low, almost coaxing, as he leaned in close. His gaze softened with a kind of tenderness that only made Stella recoil further. He brushed his lips briefly against the corner of hers, then paused just below them, eyes fixed on the small wound she’d bitten open in her frustration.
Her entire body stiffened. The moment dragged on unbearably, and the hatred in her eyes burned without restraint. But Weston pretended not to notice. Instead, he gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. His fingers moved up, skimming over her skin with an intimacy that felt invasive rather than caring.
When he reached her ear, he began to gently trace its outline with his fingertips. “Pain isn’t always a bad thing,” he murmured. “It means you can still feel something. Let it sink in. Let it remind you that I was here.”
His words were deliberate, cutting right where she was most fragile. He had long realized that in Stella’s eyes, his image was beyond repair—so instead of defending himself, he pushed harder, aiming at every sore spot.
Her eyes had already turned red, yet no tears fell. The ache inside her was too deep for crying. She looked at him, her tone strangely calm.
“The only thing I truly regret… is ever loving you,” she said quietly. “Looking back, all my so-called tolerance and forgiveness were just tools you used to belittle me, to keep me beneath you.”
Her voice didn’t waver. She wasn’t yelling or crying. But her words landed like a slap across the face.
Weston’s expression turned cold.
“I don’t want to do this the hard way,” he said through clenched teeth. “So don’t push me. Let this be the last time. Break up with Justin—end it before I do. You won’t like how I handle it if you don’t.”
He leaned forward and whispered near her ear. “It’s easier for everyone if you take the initiative.”
With that, he stood up and straightened his collar. “I’m heading to Ahn City for a few days. I expect you’ll have this resolved by the time I return.”
Then, as if nothing serious had happened, he reached out and gently patted her on the head—an almost affectionate gesture that only added to the irony of the moment.
And just like that, he turned and walked away, his long shadow slowly disappearing down the hallway.
Only after he was completely gone did Stella’s strength finally give out. She slid down against the wall behind her, her limbs weak, her mind blank. Hugging her knees to her chest, she sat curled on the cold floor, lost in confusion and despair.
For the first time, she truly didn’t know what to do. How could she ever be free of this man?
The next morning, Stella arrived at the training center for work. Her eyes were ringed with dark shadows, evidence of a sleepless night. She forced herself to stay composed, to act normal.
When Yvonne saw her walk in, she hesitated. “You…”
But halfway through the sentence, she stopped herself. “Never mind.”
The truth was, they rarely spoke beyond the first few times they met. There was a subtle wall between them—neither confrontation nor closeness.
Even their coworkers noticed the strange distance, suspecting some kind of disagreement had taken place. A few approached Stella privately, asking if something was wrong. But what could she say? She simply shook her head and buried herself in her work.
Yvonne, who owned the place, used to attend classes casually for enjoyment. But ever since moving to Fern City, she hadn’t stepped into a session again. Still, whenever she walked past Stella’s classroom, her pace would slow. Something about Stella always made her pause.
Sometimes, she thought about checking in—saying something—but then stopped herself. She didn’t like Guinevere, that much was true. But that didn’t mean she supported Stella either. In her mind, a third party was still a third party, no matter the justification.
Lucas had reminded her once: Don’t get too involved. Don’t be fooled by appearances.
Maybe the friendliness Stella had shown her early on had just been a mask. Maybe she didn’t truly know who Stella was underneath it all.
So Yvonne took a deep breath and moved on… or tried to.
She hadn’t gone far when the classroom door opened and Stella stepped out, having just finished her lesson. The two women locked eyes for a second.
Yvonne paused, then offered a polite, somewhat stiff greeting. She quickly averted her gaze, suddenly unsure of herself—as if she had done something wrong.
“You’re done with your class?” she asked casually.
Stella nodded. “Yes.”
Her voice was quiet but not unfriendly. She could sense Yvonne’s discomfort and didn’t want to make things more awkward. With her head lowered, she was about to walk away.
But just as she turned, Yvonne suddenly spoke again. “Wait.”
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