Weston could tell something was off the moment Stella stepped out of the washroom. Her unease hung in the air like an invisible thread. Without a word, he closed the book in his hands and placed it gently on the table beside him.
“Let’s take a break for today,” he said. “What do you want to do?”
Stella turned to glance at the clock on the wall. “I want to go to work.”
His brows furrowed slightly at her answer, prompting Stella to explain.
“Teachers at the training center don’t get weekends off. Most kids spend their weekends on supplementary classes.”
While others could enjoy lazy, carefree weekends, for her, it was prime working time.
Weston said nothing. He simply rose to his feet and walked past her.
“I’ll take you,” he said coolly when he reached the door.
Stella stood frozen, her back facing him. Her head was slightly bowed, emotions warring quietly within her. Still, she had no choice but to follow.
As they left the house, she tried to negotiate. “Didn’t we agree the driver would take me to work?”
Weston handled the steering wheel with ease, his eyes glancing sideways at her in the passenger seat. “Put your seatbelt on,” he reminded.
She sighed inwardly and reached for the seatbelt. Just then, the car came to a stop.
Weston leaned over suddenly, fastening the seatbelt for her himself. His black hair brushed against the tip of her nose, tickling her and making her want to sneeze. She held it back.
Trying again, she asked, “Why can’t the driver take me next time? Your car attracts too much attention. It’s hard for me to explain…”
He didn’t respond. Nor did he resume driving. Instead, he leaned back, tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, then chuckled quietly.
“You’re quick to get into character, aren’t you?”
Stella blinked, startled. A moment later, she realized he was mocking her—implying she had embraced the role of a mistress far too naturally. She gave a self-deprecating smile.
“I don’t have a choice. If anything happens, I’m the one who’ll get blamed. Guinevere could come looking for trouble and force me to leave…”
“I won’t let that happen.”
With that, Weston pressed on the accelerator, the car pulling back into motion. His words were calm—like a promise. But to Stella, men’s promises were the most unreliable things in the world.
She turned her gaze to the window and smiled faintly. “There’s a simple way to make sure it never happens…”
She didn’t finish the sentence. She knew Weston would understand.
If he was willing to let her go, she would walk away without hesitation. And none of this would be an issue.
His gaze darkened, a flash of displeasure in his eyes. He said nothing and instead increased the car’s speed. The sudden acceleration jolted Stella forward. She steadied herself and shot him a look of mild irritation. Oddly enough, that seemed to lift his mood. A faint smile played on his lips as he continued to steer.
When they neared the training center, Stella asked him repeatedly to stop a good distance away. Weston grew visibly annoyed, but eventually complied, pulling up at a quiet junction.
As the car came to a halt, Stella scanned her surroundings cautiously before opening the door.
Weston watched her movements, his frustration mounting. He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled slowly.
“Text me when you finish work. I’ll come pick you up.”
Stella paused, her body language stiff with reluctance. It was clear she didn’t want that. Weston, however, paid no mind.
“Don’t make me come find you at the center myself,” he said before shutting the car door and driving away.
She stood there a long while, watching the trail of dust his car left behind. Only after it had completely disappeared did she finally turn and walk toward the training center.
Random Art Training Center operated on a slightly different schedule during weekends. The working hours began an hour later than usual.
When Stella arrived, only a handful of people were in the building. She entered the large classroom and quietly began her preparations, warming up alone in the vast space.
Not long after, she heard movement from the direction of the changing room.
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