A thin, wry smile crept upon Weston’s face. His eyes glinted with cynicism.
“You’re buttering me up to make me feel bad so I won’t hurt Roger, aren’t you?”
“I know exactly what you’re doing,” he added, pinching Stella’s nose. “Don’t even think of pulling those
tricks on me.”
Judging from his tone, Stella could tell that he wouldn’t do anything to Roger, so she sighed in relief.
“But you said it yourself, didn’t you? He’s going abroad soon. I don’t have much time left to be with him.
Plus, you know he’s always sick, so it’s only natural that I worry about him.”
She then looked up at Weston and added, “If you have just one family member left in this world, you’d
be as anxious as I am…”
At that moment, although they were snuggling each other in bed, Weston suddenly felt as if there was
a vast distance between them.
He raised her chin and looked deep into her soul. “If he’s the only family you have left, then what am
I?”
He touched her chest with his finger.
“What am I to you… here?”
Stella hesitated, then smiled.
“What do you think you are?” she replied, throwing the ball back into his court.
Weston’s eyes turned turbulent. He leaned down and kissed her
on the lips.
The smell of alcohol wafted into her nose. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to accept this intimacy.
They’d just gotten home and even fought just now, so she didn’t have the time to take the pill, which
meant his touches right now repulsed her. This resentment towards him was rooted at the bottom of
her heart, not something that she could set aside so easily.
Weston could feel her body stiffen up too. He suddenly stopped and asked her, “Why are you so
tense? Are you still in shock from what happened?”
“No…” she shook her head, her face pale. “I just don’t feel well, that’s all… Can we do it tomorrow
instead?”
“I wasn’t thinking about that at all,” Weston replied, playing with the strand of hair that fell on her cheek.
“But now that you mention it, I’m starting to get the urge…”
Stella noticed that twinkle in his eyes which made her pause.
“Then give me a minute,” she begged. “I’ll go wash up a little.”
“But you just came out of the bath!” he quickly interjected.
Stella was about to get up, but Weston pinned her back down on the bed.
“You just made me angry, you know. Aren’t you planning on
doing something to make up for it?”
His keen eyes peered down at her like an excited child.
Stella took a deep breath to ignore the repulsion surging up from inside her. She closed her eyes and
slowly explained, “I wasn’t that thorough just now. I think I need to clean myself up a bit more…”
By then, even her voice was trembling.
Weston sensed that something was wrong, so he held up her chin and demanded, “Open your eyes.
Look at me.”
Stella reluctantly opened her eyes, only to see Weston gawking hawkishly at her as if she was his prey.
Suddenly a deep sense of powerlessness engulfed her-a mix of the defenselessness she felt in the
nightmare, the despair when she fell off the rooftop, and the sight of her own child turning into a puddle
of blood…
Her entire being completely rejected this man for who he was.
He had kissed her, hugged her, done things much more intimate than that with her for so many times
now, yet all these things from the past still swirled in her mind, and there was no way for her to stop
them.
Weston got up and took a good look at her. That look on her face told all the truth he needed to know-
she rejected him.
His face turned glum
Stella closed her eyes. After a long time, what she feared would happen didn’t happen.
She opened her eyes again. When she saw Weston looking crestfallen, she knew that her expressions
just now had frustrated him.
She got up in a hurry and grabbed his arm, explaining , “Please don’t think too much about it. I’m really
just too tired, I wasn’t…”
She dreaded Weston finding out that she had been taking those pills. She dreaded him discovering that
she could only have sex with him with the help of a drug…
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