Stella had thought for sure that Weston would’ve sold the mansion by now. But as she looked at it from the outside, she was shocked to find it exactly as it had been when they were still married. Even the flowers she had meticulously trimmed in the front yard remained in the same shape, a quiet reminder of the past.
Back then, she had wanted to be the perfect wife and mother, to take good care of the house. Even though the flowers were technically the gardener’s responsibility, she had wanted to try her hand at it. When she left, she had never imagined she’d return, especially not to this mansion.
As they stepped out of the car, Weston kept a close eye on her every expression. When she entered the house, he saw the stunned look on her face fade into one of emptiness. He followed her, his demeanor more reserved than usual.
“Since Stardust Mansion is conveniently located between Ahn City and Fern City, traveling to both places won’t be a problem,” he explained, his voice calm. “You’ll live here, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
This presented Stella with a dilemma. After a long moment, she asked, “What about Roger? I’ve been living with him, and now you want me to move out. What am I supposed to tell him?”
“That’s not my problem,” Weston replied nonchalantly. He stepped closer, placing a hand on her waist, and whispered, “My only request is that you live here, so I can see you whenever I want. As for your brother and Yvonne, you can deal with them yourself. Or…”
He paused for a moment, leaning in to kiss her earlobe. “You can tell Roger the truth, and he can come live with us.”
Stella was livid. “You jerk!” she yelled, shoving him away.
She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Roger would react if he found out what Weston had done to her. Justin was already furious, and Roger, her brother—she shuddered at the thought. She shut her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself before speaking.
“I can never tell Roger about us,” she said, her voice strained. “After all, I’m your sneaky link. You wouldn’t want people to find out about us, would you?” She stared at Weston, fully aware of her current status.
There was a brief, tense silence between them. Weston didn’t say a word, but his expression flickered with a hint of something—maybe regret, maybe something else—but it quickly disappeared.
After a moment, he reached out and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear before cupping her cheeks in his hands. He often thought she was so fragile, as though one wrong move would make her shatter. His fingers gently pressed against her neck, but the pressure was light—almost hesitant—as though he didn’t want to hurt her.
His gaze shifted away from her, as if he finally understood the weight of her words.
“Stella,” he murmured, his voice softer than before. “I like smart girls, but I like it better when you listen to me.”
The interior of the mansion hadn’t changed at all. As Stella opened the door, her eyes immediately fell on the handcrafted yarn balls she had crocheted and placed on the porch. They sat there silently, almost mocking her.
She had tried so hard to forget the foolish marriage, the foolish past, but every corner of this house seemed to hold a piece of her. Every little detail—like the wind chimes hanging at the entrance, the woolen dolls made in pairs, and even the shoes in the cabinet—reminded her of how much she had once loved the man standing before her.
She had loved him, even though he had never truly cared for her. And now, all she could do was look around at the remnants of that love—of her misguided hope—and feel the sting of how stupid she used to be.
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