After everyone had left, only the two of them remained in the room. Stella couldn’t seem to find rest, her sleep fragmented and restless. She woke up repeatedly, only to drift back into a fitful slumber. Even the sedatives couldn’t fully ease her into sleep.
Her inability to rest was a clear sign of how fragile her psychological state had become—so much so that it affected her physical health.
A little while later, her eyelids fluttered open. She seemed disoriented, unsure of her surroundings. But when her gaze fell on Weston sitting beside her, a sense of awareness slowly returned.
“What time is it?” she asked, her voice hoarse from the restless sleep.
“Don’t worry about the time. Just sleep if you can,” Weston said softly, his hand gently brushing through her hair. “I’m not going to work tomorrow. I’ll stay here with you. Don’t worry, I’m here.”
His tone was unexpectedly gentle, almost tender. It was a side of him she hadn’t seen often, but now it was as though he would do anything she asked. If she told him to reach for the stars, he would likely try.
Stella, weak and vulnerable, tried to pull away from his touch, but her strength failed her. She looked at him, her voice barely a whisper, tinged with emotion, “Can you let me go?”
Her words were soft, almost inaudible, but Weston heard every single one, and they struck him with the force of a blade. The words hit deep, stabbing into his heart with a pain so raw it made him ache.
For a long moment, he said nothing. His gaze softened with both tenderness and a hint of sorrow. He didn’t speak, instead gently covering her with the blanket. When he did finally speak, his words were far more cutting than he intended.
“No.”
The word hung in the air like a heavy weight, crushing any hope she had left.
Stella’s face fell, and she immediately turned her back to him, withdrawing into herself. Her one simple wish was to escape, to leave him. No matter the cost, she wanted to be free. But even in her silent desperation, she knew it was impossible.
Weston, understanding the turmoil in her mind, moved closer. He lifted the quilt and lay beside her, pulling her gently against him, wrapping her in his warmth. Resting his chin on her hair, he spoke softly, as if revealing a fragile truth.
“The words I said before are real,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll set a deadline for you. When that time comes, I’ll let you go.”
Stella’s voice was faint, barely more than a breath, when she responded, “Can I trust you?”
Her question hung in the silence, fragile and uncertain. Weston took her hands in his and kissed them softly, his words steady and sincere. “No matter when, my words will always be true.”
Her lips curved into a bittersweet smile, and a soft, hollow chuckle escaped her—though whether it was directed at him or herself, neither of them could tell.
“So how long is this period?” she asked, her voice trembling with skepticism. “What if you break your promise when the time comes?”
Stella didn’t want to put her faith in something that felt like an empty promise, a future that may never arrive.
Weston understood, but he knew no answer would be enough to calm her fears. Instead, he placed his hands gently on her stomach, rubbing it as if to soothe her, though the pain had long since passed.
“Just stay beside me,” he said softly, his voice a low murmur. “Like you used to…”
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