Stella Charlie snuggled back into the blanket, the sweetness in her heart spilling over onto her face.
All of this felt sowhat sudden to her.
After all, she never thought Vincent Warner liked her.
To be precise, she wasn’t sure about it even now, but having tasted love for the first ti, she naively yearned for a sweet and beautiful future.
Vincent Warner returned ho at noon as promised.
Originally, he intended to take Stella Charlie out for lunch but found the dining table already laid with steaming dishes.
At this mont, warmth surged in Vincent Warner’s heart.
How long had it been since he felt this kind of "ho" feeling.
Looking at the table full of dishes made him feel there was soone at ho who cared about him and waited for him.
"...You’re back?" Stella Charlie peeked at him, her smile a bit shy, with eyes holding expectation.
"Why did you make so many dishes?"
Stella Charlie smiled awkwardly and explained, "I don’t know what you like to eat, so I made more dishes. I’ll serve the soup and then we can eat."
Vincent Warner took off his jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and walked into the kitchen: "Let do it."
In the days that followed, the two lived like glue and paper.
Whenever Stella Charlie had no classes, she eagerly returned ho, and Vincent Warner also went to and from work on ti every day.
The two seed to have started their married life, but Stella Charlie always felt sothing was missing.
Vincent Warner would gently do intimate things with her but never once told her he liked her.
She still didn’t know much about Vincent Warner.
She never asked, and he never ntioned it.
On another weekend, Stella Charlie returned from working part-ti at a café and bought so groceries needed for dinner on the way, returning ho early to prepare dinner.
She thought Vincent Warner would return from work on ti as usual, but there was no movent at the door.
After placing the last dish on the table, Stella Charlie went to the living room to find her phone.
When she wanted to contact him, she realized he had sent a ssage two hours ago: Sothing ca up tonight; I can’t co ho for dinner with you.
Stella Charlie turned to look at the dishes on the table, feeling sowhat disappointed.
Sitting sideways on the sofa, she replied: Okay, roughly what ti will you be back?
After waiting a few minutes without a reply, Stella Charlie put down her phone, returned to the dining table, and picked up the bowl and chopsticks alone.
The Warner family eting dinner was supposed to be a family gathering, but the atmosphere was far from the imagined harmony.
Since Sean Warner’s car accident, the seemingly calm Warner family had beco full of hidden currents.
With the family heir position vacant, others started eyeing it covetously.
As the second son of the Warner family, Vincent Warner’s chances to beco the heir greatly increased in Sean Warner’s absence.
Shane, being Sean’s younger brother, firmly believed the accident was caused by Vincent Warner and naturally didn’t want to hand over the position that originally belonged to his brother to whom he deed culpable.
This deceitful environnt only made Vincent Warner feel vexed.
After the dinner ended, he imdiately left the Warner household.
The death of Sean Warner was probably sothing he could never co to terms with.
Thinking about Shane’s suspicion and hatred towards him, the frustration piled up in Vincent Warner’s heart.
At around nine o’clock, Stella Charlie was in the shower and vaguely heard noises in the living room.
She sped up her washing and changed into pajamas to find Vincent Warner smoking on the balcony.
Her steps hesitated as she approached Vincent Warner, softly saying, "...You’re back?"
Vincent Warner turned to look at her, unmoving, silent.
Stella Charlie pressed her lips together and gathered the courage to ask the question she had always been afraid to: "What happened? Is sothing wrong?"
Vincent Warner didn’t answer, instead reaching out to clasp her waist and pulling her into his embrace.
The kiss was mixed with a faint cigarette scent.
The fierce intensity seed both like venting and confessing.
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