Last night, Weston had indeed gone a little out of control and was way too forceful.
But Stella knew in her heart that she was the one who allowed it somehow.
If she showed a strong sense of resistance, with his strong selfâcontrol, he would not have forced her.
She had to admit that little bit of thought herself.
Maybe her heart really softened seeing him like that.
Seeing her look calm as usual, not scolding him, nor turning away in anger, Weston was a bit confused about her mood and remained cautious.
Stella felt puzzled seeing him sitting motionless and gave him a look. âWhat are you looking at me like that for? Do I have something on my face?â
She wanted to raise her hand to touch her face, only to find her arms too sore to lift themselves. She inhaled sharply and could not help but glare at him. âItâs all your fault!â
When seeing her start to blame him, he then let out a sigh of relief and said to her in a suppressed voice, âIâm sorry.â
She looked at his sudden relief and felt more and more strange about him.
Could it be that he had that kind of tendency now, that he would only feel at ease when she scolded him?
Stella shuddered at the thought of this.
She wanted to get dressed, but the incessant soreness in her body strongly suggested otherwise.
Helpless, she could only look at Weston. âWhat are you doing? Help me get dressed!â
His throat rolled up and down, and he walked to her.
She sensed something wrong in his eyes and immediately warned him, âLast night was already too much. You better not do anything more to me!â
His eyes changed, and he smiled. âI know. Iâve had medicine sent over. I shouldnât be so impulsive for a week.â
He just said that he would not be so impulsive but did not promise not to do it again.
This man was now so shamelessly superficial that he did not even pretend.
Stella said, âLike youâre going to do anything else to me a week from nowâ¦â
He pursed the corners of his lips without saying anything and put his hands directly through her arms, and lifted her up.
Stella then leaned on his arms and let Weston dress her.
His movements were careful, like he was treating some fragile treasure.
She looked at the side of his face and shook her head.
She knew that things were weird between the two of them these days, but there did not seem to be much else she could do about it at the moment.
After dressing her, he picked her up in his arms.
Only when they were out of the room did Stella feel the harsh light outside.
âThis house is too dark.â
She said to him, âDonât you ever come here again.â
He paused in his steps for a moment, then nodded.
He would do whatever she asked.
He carried her to the car, and Stella looked at his arm, âArenât you still injured? Will the wound reopen?â
He shook his head. âNo.â
He continued, âYou are very light.â
After that, he got into the car. Stella noticed that he seemed to be obsessed with physical contact with her now.
Wherever he was, he had to be close to her. He was so clingy that it was beginning to get a little disconcerting.
She rubbed her glabella in exasperation. âDonât worry. I am not a kid. I wonât run away from you.â
Weston did not say anything. Although he looked bland, he, in fact, stayed as close as he could to her and didnât let her off in the slightest bit.