Stella was startled at first, but she quickly regained her composure. “Are we starting now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Although her words were vague, Weston immediately understood what she meant. His momentary desire vanished as quickly as it had appeared. His expression darkened, and with a sharp edge to his voice, he snapped, “I don’t have the mood for it, even if you begged me!” He shoved Stella away, his frustration evident.
Without another word, Weston stormed back into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
Stella stood there for a moment, her eyes fixed on the closed door, her mind racing with disbelief. The night was still young, the faint sound of the television murmuring in the background. She walked toward the sofa, intending to sit down, but then the commercial came on—starring Guinevere Cohen. The sight of the woman on the screen stirred a complex mix of emotions within Stella.
Her eyes were glued to the screen, the scenes unfolding before her almost like a movie. As the commercial continued, memories from the past flashed before Stella’s eyes.
She leaned against the backrest, picked up a pillow, and curled up on the sofa. She was wearing a simple, long white cotton dress, her hair flowing softly over her shoulders. The moonlight that filtered in through the windows made her skin appear almost translucent, a stark contrast against the darkness of the room.
A deep sense of confusion washed over her. Weston had treated her cruelly before, all because of Guinevere. So why, now, was he locking her in their former home, refusing to let her leave? Could it be that he truly missed the days when they were married?
The thought made Stella scoff, bitterness creeping into her chest. She picked up the remote, turned off the television, and then lay back down on the sofa, closing her eyes.
It was now well past midnight.
Weston stood in front of the closed bedroom door, staring at it intently. The entire night had passed in silence. He hadn’t locked the door, yet Stella hadn’t made any attempt to come in.
A deep frown etched itself onto his face as impatience slowly took root within him. He tossed the blanket aside, rising from the bed with a grunt. He stomped out of the room and into the living room.
There, he found Stella, curled up on the sofa, fast asleep. Weston’s tall frame cast a long shadow over her body as he approached. For a moment, he watched her, the sight of her sleeping figure filling him with an odd mix of emotions.
Stella frowned in her sleep, her face contorted in a way that made her look like a tiny creature braving the cold. She had no blanket, only a small pillow tightly held in her arms. The sight of her so fragile, so vulnerable, made the fire of anger within Weston flicker and die down.
His calloused fingers reached out, trembling slightly as they brushed her cheek, tracing the delicate curve of her face. Her skin, pale and fragile, seemed almost translucent in the moonlight, the veins beneath the surface visible. She looked so fragile, yet there was something about her—an incredible tenacity—that intrigued him.
A strange thought entered Weston’s mind. Perhaps there was nothing wrong with them continuing like this. Stella might resist now, but everything could change with time. He was a patient man, and he now had her exactly where he wanted. She wouldn’t be able to escape. Not now, not ever.
His fingers trailed down her face to her lips, his gaze darkening as he leaned in closer. He was about to kiss her when…
“Weston!” Stella mumbled in her sleep, her voice barely audible. “Please believe me…”
Her words froze him in place. His body went rigid, his eyes wide with shock as he listened.
“If you save me, Guinevere will be fine. If you save her, I’ll die…”
The words struck him like lightning, sending a shiver down his spine. His whole body tensed, unable to move, as he waited for her to speak again.
“Believe me, I’ll really die…” Stella whispered in her sleep, her voice filled with a desperation that rattled him.
“My baby, I’m so sorry…”
Weston stood there, frozen in place, his mind reeling from the unexpected words. The room was eerily silent, save for the rapid beating of his heart.
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