Weston hadn’t expected the film he had casually selected to feature Guinevere. He was about to change the channel when Stella stopped him.
“Why do you need to change it?” she asked, her hand wrapping around his.
He looked down at her, his gaze softening as he searched her eyes. “You don’t want to change it?”
Stella shook her head. “I want to learn and see how the best actress acts.”
Her tone was sincere, devoid of any sarcasm or mockery. Yet, Weston sensed a deeper meaning in her words. He tilted her chin up gently, his eyes narrowing with a hint of curiosity. “Do you want to use your acting abilities on me, or are you thinking of pursuing a career in the entertainment industry?”
Stella considered the question for a moment, a small smile curling on her lips. “I think both are okay.” She wasn’t about to be completely honest with him, not when it came to her true thoughts.
Weston understood her implications but wasn’t bothered. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle. “You’re bold now,” he remarked before leaning in close to her ear, speaking in a low, teasing tone.
Stella’s lips formed a cold smile, her thoughts drifting elsewhere.
The movie started, and she nudged him gently. “Let’s watch it.” Weston, silent now, pulled her closer, wrapping her in his arms. The soft glow from the home theater screen cast a dim light around them.
But in the quiet of the room, Weston didn’t notice how pale Stella looked or how her expression had become increasingly strained.
After dinner, she had felt a dull, throbbing pain in her stomach, but she kept it to herself. She didn’t want to make a sound, didn’t want to disturb the fragile peace between them. As the movie continued, the pain intensified, becoming unbearable. Yet, she remained silent, pressing her hands against her abdomen in a vain attempt to ease the discomfort.
Since losing her child a year ago, her tolerance for pain had grown stronger. Nothing could compare to the devastation she had endured when the life inside her had been taken away.
The movie was nearing its end when Weston noticed something was off. Stella had barely reacted, her usual expressions absent as the credits began to roll.
“Do you still want to watch, or do you want to sleep?” he asked, his voice quiet, yet concerned.
When she didn’t respond, he lowered his head and saw that her eyes were closed, her face drained of color. His expression darkened immediately. “Stella, what happened?”
Reluctantly, Stella opened her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m fine…”
But her response did nothing to ease his concern. Weston cupped her face, feeling the cold sweat that coated her skin. His brow furrowed.
Turning on the light, he saw how she trembled, her body stiff with pain. She had been suffering for longer than she had let on.
His heart sank. “Why didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well?”
Stella pressed her lips together, refusing to answer, her gaze turning away from him.
Weston’s frustration flared, but he quickly suppressed it. He knew that arguing wouldn’t help, not now. He needed to stay calm.
“Tell me where it hurts,” he said, his voice softer now, laced with genuine concern. “I’ll call the doctor.”
But Stella didn’t respond. Her eyes remained shut, and she lay on the sofa, her body curled slightly as if the pain had taken everything out of her.
At that, Weston lost the little patience he had left. Without a word, he gently scooped her into his arms, his movements tender, despite the urgency. He called for the doctor as he carried her to the bedroom.
Laying her down on the bed, he saw how tightly she was curled, clutching her stomach. A sense of helplessness washed over him.
He sat beside her, his expression softening as he moved closer, lifting her up just slightly.
His palm rested gently on her stomach, and he began to rub in slow, calming circles. “Is this better?” he asked quietly, his voice filled with concern.
Skip to content