Weston looked up and noticed that Stella had fallen asleep, the tablet slipping from her grasp and hovering dangerously close to her face. He moved quickly, catching the tablet just before it could hit her. Stella remained deep in slumber, unaware of how close he was. It was the first time since they had reunited that she was sleeping so vulnerably, her guard completely down. His gaze softened as he watched her, the tension in his chest easing for a moment. He turned off the tablet and squatted in front of her, his hand hovering for a moment before he reached out to touch her.
Just then, Stella jolted awake, her eyes blinking in surprise as she saw him in front of her. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, her voice soft with confusion. “What time is it?” she asked, letting out a small yawn.
Weston stood up, his voice steady. “It’s noon. Are you hungry?”
“I’m alright,” she replied, still groggy.
“You need to eat a little, even if you’re not hungry,” he insisted. “You must develop the habit of eating on time.”
Stella didn’t respond, her silence speaking volumes. Without another word, Weston lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the dining hall. He wasn’t sure when it had started, but lately, he had found himself enjoying carrying her around, unwilling to let her walk on her own. There was something strangely comforting about it.
As they entered the living room, they encountered a maid coming from the dining hall. She was neatly dressed and greeted them respectfully. “Sir, Ma’am, the meal is ready.”
Stella hadn’t realized there was someone else in the house. She felt a rush of embarrassment, especially considering she was still in Weston’s arms. “Let go of me!” she suddenly exclaimed, her voice rising with panic.
Weston glanced at her but said nothing, continuing to carry her to the dining table and sitting her down with a quiet determination. She couldn’t help but feel a little more self-conscious, her gaze flicking toward the maid. But the maid remained unfazed, as if nothing unusual had happened. Her professional demeanor showed no signs of surprise.
Once they were seated, the maid began serving the dishes. Weston turned to Stella, explaining, “From now on, Joan will take care of your meals. If you have any special requests, you can let her know.”
Stella considered this for a moment, then spoke up. “Let me walk on my own next time,” she said quietly, the words feeling almost like a plea. She didn’t want to feel like a helpless person, especially with an outsider present.
Weston, however, didn’t acknowledge her request, as though he hadn’t heard her at all. “I’ve told Joan about your preferences,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. “Try and see if you like it.”
Stella turned her attention to the table, now filled with a variety of home-cooked dishes. The sight of it made her pause. Although some of the dishes looked a little plain, she could tell a lot of effort had gone into preparing them. They were all her favorites.
She hesitated, feeling a strange discomfort. Under Weston’s watchful gaze, she forced herself to take a bite of the chopped pepper fish head. The flavor hit her immediately—spicy but delicious. She swallowed, bracing for the usual burn that would follow, but to her surprise, it didn’t come. Instead, she felt no discomfort at all. The dish was flavorful, yet somehow gentle on her stomach.
A hint of a smile appeared on Weston’s lips as he observed her reaction. He could tell from her expression that she was feeling fine, and he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. Hiring Joan hadn’t been a waste of money after all.
“Eat more if you like it,” he encouraged, adding more food to her plate.
Stella, still a bit dazed, glanced at the dishes in front of her, but her mind was elsewhere. Suddenly, a memory flashed through her mind—the image of Weston carefully cutting steak for Guinevere. The thought lingered, a quiet ache forming in her chest.
Skip to content