They had agreed to be with each other for a year. Throughout this period, Stella had to maintain her old demeanor, at least on the surface. She knew she couldn’t fully be the woman she once was, and Weston understood that things couldn’t go back to how they were, but he was willing to accept the act if she was ready to play along.
“Nothing. I’m just curious. You looked a little tense when you answered the phone earlier,” she said, a subtle challenge in her tone.
Stella knew exactly how to divert his attention. Mentioning something he didn’t want to discuss, like Guinevere, would shut him down in an instant. Weston recognized her tactics—he knew she had deliberately steered the conversation to avoid the topic. Rather than getting angry, he simply smiled, his hand brushing through her hair. “You’ve become bold.”
It was the second time he’d said that about her.
She propped her chin in her hands, turning to look out the window. As the car passed by a familiar road, a sudden laugh escaped her lips.
“What’s so funny?” Weston asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.
Stella shook her head, a smile still on her face. “Do you remember this road? It was here that you left me and drove away,” she said, her voice light but laced with something heavier underneath.
The words hit Weston like a punch to the gut. Without warning, he slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt in the middle of the road. The night was dark, and his expression was unreadable, a mix of anger and regret flashing in his eyes.
After a brief silence, he lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. “You haven’t forgotten, then,” he muttered, his voice low.
Stella didn’t usually hold grudges, but it seemed her words suggested that maybe she still held some bitterness toward him.
She stared at him as the smoke curled from his cigarette, watching how the glowing ember swayed between his fingers. The dim light from the cigarette made his features appear more intense, more mysterious. He always wore dark colors, making it hard for anyone to read him. The old Stella would have spent time guessing what was on his mind. Now, she knew how to provoke him and get under his skin.
With a playful smile, she continued, “I couldn’t forget, even if I tried. I walked back home alone that day. It’s not every day you get left like that.”
It was a half-truth, a small lie woven into her words. Weston knew she was embellishing the story. After leaving her that day, he had actually called Xavier to pick her up. He didn’t know why he hadn’t done it himself, but perhaps it was because they had been arguing at the time, neither wanting to apologize first. Or maybe, he hadn’t wanted her to realize that he had no other options.
Now, Stella had learned how to wield the past, how to twist it to her advantage. She was playing a game, but he could see through her. She was trying to manipulate him, to guilt-trip him into doing what she wanted.
She was like a newcomer, learning how to play mind games with him, but Weston wasn’t fooled. He saw right through her attempts.
Yet, part of him didn’t want to understand. He would rather remain oblivious to the fact that she had no real feelings for him, that every word, every action, was part of a carefully calculated plan.
She wasn’t trying to cheat him, but she wanted to leave him.
His frustration boiled over. He slammed his foot onto the gas pedal, the sudden acceleration throwing Stella back into her seat. She hadn’t expected it, and her body jerked against the force. The look on Weston’s face was one of pure fury, like a beast cornered. Stella, caught off guard, could only stare at him, confused and unsettled by the sudden shift in his mood.
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