The night was dark.
Downstairs, below the apartment, a tall dark figure was standing there all alone, casting a long and lon ely shadow.
Under the streetlamp, moths were circling around the light in a frenzy. That was the way it had been sin ce time. immemorialâ
moths had always flown straight into the flame, sacrificing themselves for a short but brilliant life.
Stella stared at him for some time before retracting her gaze and closing the curtain.
Too bad for him, but she was resolved never again to be attracted to the flames like those moths.
From that day onwards, Weston never showed up before Stella.
Then again, now that he had found out it was Guinevere Cohen who had caused all the trouble in the p ast, it would be incredibly shameless even for a man like Weston to keep getting in her hair like he use d to.
To Stellaâs surprise, though, when she entered the restaurant where she was supposed to meet a music producer, she caught sight of the very man at a table across the room. She knew then
that she had vastly underrated Westonâs thickâskinned shamelessness.
She had an appointment with a music producer that day to discuss her first concert in this country. She
absolutely did not expect to see Weston here as well.
She walked up to them and greeted the producer first, before casually sweeping a glance over Weston. With a thin smile, she stretched out her hand towards him and said, âPleasure to meet you, Mr . Ford.â
Weston took her hand, briefly shook it in a businessâlike manner, and quickly withdrew his hand, saying, âHello, Miss Cicily.
He called her by her new name, just as if the two of them were perfect strangers.
That was precisely what Stella wanted.
She took her seat and went on to discuss matters surrounding her concert with the music producer in a leisurely manner.
The truth was, only a few people went to music concerts, but Stella had gained so much fame and repu tation abroad that it would be a shame not to take advantage of 1. it.
By then, anyone who had even minimal exposure to classical music was familiar with the name Cicily.
She was now widely regarded as one of the greatest pianists of this century.
With such prestige, the producer was confident that she had great potential to expand her career here i n this country.
While Stella and the producer were happily chatting away, Weston just sat in complete silence without
saying a single word the whole time.
The producer obviously had no idea what had transpired between Weston and Stella. After talking with
Stella for a while, he suggested that they sign a contract right then and there.
âIf youâre interested, Miss Cicily, you can join us in our holiday retreat thatâs happening soon. Weâre going to Snow Mountain in Fern City. Lots of industry Stella thought of how she had not been doing much at all since returning to this country. However, consi on the right track in his career, she nodded and agreed right away.
âIf nothing happens to prevent it, Iâll definitely find some time to join you guys.â
âGreat!â cried the producer in delight. âWith you there, Iâm sure lots more people will decide to join us too They both continued chatting for a little longer until the producer suddenly turned to Weston and asked, Weston said nothing. His clear black eyes were fixed on Stella.
She avoided eye contact and took a sip of her coffee. Whether or not he decided to go, it would be comp Weston seemed to be able to read her mind. He pursed his lips and smiled wryly before replying, âIâm to He spoke calmly and politely, but to Stellaâs ears, she detected a hint of pain and grievance.