Roger fell silent, his gaze resting on Stella for a moment before he reached out and gently ruffled her hair. “Sis,” he asked softly, “can’t you just forget about that man?”
Before he could continue, Stella cut him off, her voice firm. “What makes you think I haven’t?”
Roger pressed his lips together, choosing not to respond. After a few moments, he sighed deeply. “He treated you so badly. Do you still want to go back to him?”
“Of course not,” Stella replied flatly.
She untied her apron and hung it neatly on the hook beside the wall. Roger watched her back as she moved—something about the way she avoided his gaze made him feel uneasy. Still, he didn’t push further. Instead, he stepped forward to help carry the dishes from the kitchen counter to the small dining table in the living room.
Their apartment was modest, the kitchen and living space connected in an open layout. It wasn’t big, but it was warm, the kind of space that felt like home when shared by two people who cared about each other.
Roger hadn’t eaten his sister’s home-cooked food in days. Now, with a satisfied smile on his face, he couldn’t stop complimenting her dishes.
“Sis, this is amazing! I missed your cooking so much.”
Stella smiled faintly at his praise, but a pang of guilt tugged at her heart. She didn’t have the courage to tell Roger where she had actually been these past few days. She’d lied to him about being on a business trip.
If he ever found out about her involvement with Weston, there was no telling how he might react.
Lost in thought, Stella missed part of what Roger was saying. He had been chatting away, sharing amusing stories from school, but she barely registered his words.
Roger suddenly set down his chopsticks and looked at her with concern. “Sis, what’s wrong?”
Snapping back to reality, Stella blinked. “Huh? Oh, nothing… I’m fine.”
To ease his worry, she picked up a sweet rib and placed it into his bowl. “Didn’t you say these are your favorite?”
Roger nodded, but he studied her carefully. Having recently recovered from a serious illness, he still had to avoid overly spicy food. Fortunately, he had always had a sweet tooth, especially for sweet and sour dishes. Stella, on the other hand, had always preferred spicy flavors.
When their parents were still alive, they always made sure to accommodate both of their preferences. But after their passing, Stella gave up the foods she liked and only cooked what Roger could eat. She had neither the time nor the energy to indulge her own tastes.
Later, after suffering a miscarriage, her health had declined even further. Since then, she had simply gotten used to lighter meals.
Roger noticed her absent expression but said nothing, quietly finishing his meal.
After dinner, he stood up and volunteered to do the dishes. Stella didn’t argue and made her way to the sofa. She idly flipped through the channels, not really watching anything, just trying to distract herself.
Then her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen and saw Weston’s name. Her fingers froze.
She didn’t want to answer—not in front of Roger.
The phone kept ringing.
Casting a quick glance toward the kitchen, where Roger was still busy washing up, Stella stood and walked out to the balcony. She answered the call in a hushed voice.
“Hello?”
Weston’s deep, unmistakable voice came through. “What took you so long?”
“I was watching TV. Didn’t hear the phone,” she lied smoothly.
There was a short pause on his end. “Are you home?” he asked.
“No,” she answered quietly. “I’m with Roger right now.”
The line went silent for a moment.
Then, Stella’s voice softened. “Can I stay home with him tonight?”
Skip to content