The night was chilly, and the room was silent. It was nearly two in the morning. Stella had finally settled into a deep sleep, her murmurs and restless words fading away.
Weston had stayed by her side for over an hour, watching her slowly calm down, but now that she was sound asleep, he still couldn’t bring himself to rest.
He was dressed in a long silk nightshirt, the dark blue satin fabric clinging to his tall, muscular frame. Quietly, he stepped out onto the balcony, sliding the glass door shut with careful precision, not wanting to disturb the stillness. For a moment, he just stood there, gazing through the glass at Stella, who was lying on the sofa, unaware of his presence.
Then, turning away, he rested his arms on the balcony railing, looking down at the courtyard below. Under the soft glow of the streetlamps, the leaves that had once been bright green now appeared dark and gloomy. The wind rustled through the trees, and their shadows swayed in the moonlight, creating a surreal atmosphere—as if he were standing in a scene from another world.
Weston pulled out a cigarette and, with an absent flick of his hand, tossed the case aside. He lit it with his lighter, a faint blue flame sparking to life before burning the end of the cigarette. The smell of burnt tobacco filled the air, and the smoke curled upward, dissipating into the night.
He played absentmindedly with the lighter, watching the flame flicker on and off. The metallic clink of the lighter echoed in the quiet of the night, though no one inside could hear it.
The stormy emotions in Weston’s eyes finally began to calm, but they were soon replaced by the haunting echoes of Stella’s cries, her voice raw with pain. She had begged him—pleaded for him to believe her, to save her.
That memory—of that night—was one he wished he could erase. It had plagued him with nightmares, but his iron self-control had always kept them at bay. Yet the image of that baby, the thought of what had happened, kept resurfacing in his mind.
Weston raised a hand to his temple, massaging it in an attempt to push the thoughts away.
He had never thought much about the baby. When Stella had first told him she was pregnant, he hadn’t reacted with any particular emotion. To him, a child had never held any significance. He hadn’t cared about the idea at all. So naturally, he’d thought the best solution would be to end the pregnancy.
But he hadn’t considered Stella’s feelings as a mother. And worse still, he hadn’t realized the gravity of her condition. She had the same medical issue as Guinevere, meaning she could only have one child in her lifetime.
That had been when he reluctantly agreed to Stella’s plea. Weston had never imagined himself as a father, but the day he saw Stella fall from the top floor, clutching her belly, his heart had shattered. In that moment, the suppressed emotions he had buried deep within him came rushing to the surface, overwhelming him.
He had never really taken the time to understand his true feelings for Stella. Since their reunion, he had focused on suppressing all the painful memories of the past. But after hearing her call out to him in desperation, pleading for him to save her, he knew it was impossible to continue hiding his emotions.
The red ember at the end of the cigarette burned slowly. Weston hadn’t smoked much, but the cigarette seemed to be burning out faster than usual. He wasn’t particularly addicted to smoking, but for the past year, he had been surrounded by the scent of tobacco, more out of habit than desire.
Stella had always disliked his smoking. He had ignored her wishes in the past, but now, he found himself lighting fewer cigarettes. He was subconsciously starting to do what she had wanted all along, even if she no longer cared.
She no longer prioritized him the way she once had. Now, all she wanted was to escape from him.
Weston crushed the cigarette out and turned back toward the glass door. Leaning against the balcony railing, his tall frame cast a long shadow under the pale moonlight, lost in his thoughts as the night continued to unfold around him.
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