The siblings were both hiding something. Neither could pinpoint when it had started, but at some point, even their once-transparent bond had grown faint shadows of secrecy. Stella didn’t know how to describe the feeling exactly, but the realization unsettled her.
That afternoon, they didn’t have much time together. Roger had to prepare for his next class. As a computer science major, his schedule was always packed, and today was one of his rare lighter days.
Stella sat nearby, watching him sort through his books and materials. A soft look of relief crossed her face.
“In a few years, you’ll finally grow up,” she said with a faint smile.
Roger scoffed lightly. “I’m already grown up.”
“Not yet,” Stella replied gently.
She reached out to smooth a crease in his clothes, her voice softening. “You’ll be an adult when you graduate university. Mom and Dad would be so relieved, watching you from heaven.”
Roger froze for a moment, then turned to her. Quietly, he leaned in and rested his forehead on her shoulder, sighing deeply.
“Sis, if anything happens—if you ever get into trouble—you have to tell me. I’m not a kid anymore. I can handle it.”
Stella’s heart ached. She could tell he was sensing something. Instead of answering, she patted his back reassuringly, saying nothing.
After Roger left, she took a moment, then finally returned Weston’s call.
His voice was low and steady on the other end. “I’ll send a driver to pick you up.”
There was a pause.
“Okay,” she replied quietly.
She had something she needed to discuss with him.
When the time came, the driver parked a fair distance from the neighborhood entrance. Stella hailed a taxi to the meeting point instead of walking from home—she couldn’t risk Roger seeing her with Weston.
As she got into the car, she saw Weston already seated in the back. His eyes were closed, and he held a stack of documents in his hand. He looked tired—clearly preoccupied with work.
He had just left Guinevere’s place. Stella didn’t expect him to show up in person. She thought he might stay away for a while longer.
Weston opened his eyes slowly when he noticed her hesitating. “Why aren’t you getting in?”
Without a word, Stella slid into the seat beside him. The moment she shut the door, he reached out and pulled her firmly into his arms.
Before she could even react, she found herself enveloped in his warm embrace. One hand gently pressed against her back, the other slowly stroking her.
She instinctively tried to pull away, but Weston’s voice dropped to a whisper in her ear, low and hoarse. “Let me hold you… just a little longer.”
He sounded tired—bone-deep exhausted.
Stella stopped resisting. She stayed still, letting him hold her.
Minutes passed.
Eventually, Weston leaned down and placed a kiss on her hair. “Did you sleep well last night?” he asked softly.
Still resting against his shoulder, Stella responded in a quiet murmur, “Yes. And you? Did you sleep well?”
His arms stiffened slightly around her.
He had come to see her for a reason—one that he didn’t fully understand himself. He’d left the Ford Mansion and driven straight here, compelled by something he couldn’t ignore. He felt the need to explain what had happened with Guinevere.
He had never explained himself to anyone before.
But Stella… she was different.
His fingers brushed her hair with surprising tenderness. He lowered his voice, speaking just beside her ear. “Do you have anything you want to ask me?”
Stella blinked. “What would I ask you?”
Weston gently tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “About last night.”
Stella’s expression remained unreadable. She shook her head. “No.”
Weston leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against her ear. “No questions? Really?”
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