Weston didn’t hesitate. He shut his eyes, and Stella heard his quiet agreement. “Okay.”
Before she could let herself feel relief, however, his next words quickly snatched it away. “I don’t want to see you like this. At least make me feel like the year will be worth it.”
Stella took a deep breath. “I understand.” She would be lying if she said she didn’t know what Weston was trying to do. He wanted the old Stella back—the one who loved him with everything she had.
If that was what he wanted, she would give it to him. She was determined to show him what he craved. A year was more than enough time for him to grow tired of her again. And when he did, when he found her annoying and finally decided to let her go, that would be a victory.
But Stella wasn’t about to sit and wait passively. She would use his power to strengthen her own. Only by gaining power would she have more choices, and perhaps, for once, not feel trapped, unable to fight back.
The air around them seemed to freeze, and her eyes flashed with intent. She knew what he wanted, so she threw her arms out, attempting to hug him. But he quickly dodged her. Confusion swept over her as she stared up at him, and he lowered his head, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of her nose.
“What’s the rush?” he asked, his voice gentle. “The most important thing right now is for you to rest.”
Stella, already weak from the earlier episode, didn’t argue. She knew exactly what he wanted—to see the version of her who was entirely consumed by him, the one who cared for nothing but him. It was the same Stella he longed for, not the one who was only pretending to be distant.
She could see through it, so she didn’t press. Instead, she closed her eyes and let the exhaustion take over, finally allowing herself to sleep.
Later, when Stella woke up, the afternoon sun had already stretched across the room. The prolonged sleep had left her with a throbbing headache, but she didn’t linger on it. She sat up slowly, trying to shake off the grogginess.
The door opened suddenly, and Weston stepped in. His voice, warm and familiar, broke the silence. “You’re awake?”
She hummed in acknowledgment, though her voice sounded confused. “What time is it now?”
“I took the day off for you. Don’t worry.” Weston set down a small table by her side and placed breakfast on it. He turned away from her, but his voice remained calm, almost too natural. “Eat something. If you can’t, don’t force it.”
The casual way he spoke, so concerned and gentle, caught her off guard. Stella stared at him, dazed, unsure of what to make of it. “What are you thinking?” he asked, poking her lightly on the forehead.
Such intimacy was new to her. He had never been so affectionate before—he would hold her close to sleep, but this felt different. This was an openness she hadn’t seen from him in a long time.
Still silent, Stella slid the blanket off and stood. “I’m going to wash up,” she said, her voice soft.
Weston didn’t stop her, but as she moved, he frowned. Seeing her walk barefoot, he quickly crossed the room and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her as if she weighed nothing.
Her feet, small and delicate, rested in his palms as he cradled her. He walked to the closet, gently placing her on his lap as he retrieved a pair of soft, furry slippers. His hands, large and warm, slid the slippers onto her feet.
As he did, a rush of memories swept over Weston. Her soft skin against his hand, the way her small feet fit so perfectly in his palm—it all felt so familiar, like something he had missed deeply.
Stella, however, pulled back instinctively, her foot twitching as his fingers grazed her skin. But Weston held on tighter, his grip gentle yet firm, and for a moment, they both seemed lost in the quiet intimacy of the moment.
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