Her eyes were crimson, and the old guy in front of her appeared to sense the loss and battle raging within her heart during the brief seconds they shared. People who loved art appeared to have pure hearts. Stella, too, wished she could maintain her innocence, butâ¦
âThe me now really donât deserve your piano. I know you only make a few pianos in a year. You should leave it for those who deserve it more than me.â Seeing her persistence, Mr. Kennedy waved his hand.
âAlright. You can go out.â Stella shut the door and the minute she turned around she saw Weston waiting for her in the corridor. Seeing that her eyes were red, he frowned and walked to her.
âWhy are you crying?â He gently wiped the tears off her face and said in a heavy tone, âWhat did Mr.
Kennedy say to you?â She shook her head. âNothing.â Not believing what he heard, Weston walked past her, trying to push the door open. âWhat are you doing?!â She immediately pulled his hands. He glared coldly and in a chilling tone, said, âAlthough heâs my teacher, he canât bully my girl.â
âHe didnât bully me,â she said helplessly.
âI donât want to play the piano anymore.â
âWhy? Donât you like it?â He stopped in his tracks when he heard this. She shook her head and said, âEven if thereâs a piano at home, I wonât have the time for it. Plus, Mr. Kennedy only produces a few pianos in a year, and there are still so many people waiting. I donât want to take anyoneâs place.â
Weston calmed down when he heard her say the word âhomeâ. He reached his hands out to caress her face.
âStop caring about others. If you want it, Iâll give it to you.â âI really donât want it now.â She gazed at him with sincerity and honesty. He gently pinched her cheeks and felt helpless. âStella, when will you ever stop putting other people before yourself?â This stunned her for a little while. It was indeed true. She had always put others first, no matter what she did.
The expression on her face dulled, and she whispered, âI wonât do that, ever again.â The original plan was to get Stella a piano but since she didnât want it, he took her home. Their car sped down the highway.
âWhere do you want to go next?â he asked her.
She shook her head and turned to him suddenly. âDonât you have anything to do?â
Although her words were ambiguous, they did make Weston think that she didnât want to be with him anymore. His forehead scrunched into a frown, he asked, âDo you hope that I have something else to do?â Her eyes flashed, and she didnât say a word.
It was indeed what she had intended, and she didnât want to make it obvious.