Chapter 5

Stella’s POV

Chloe's downtown apartment was cozy and warm.

By the time I arrived, she had prepared a table full of my favorite dishes. We sat down, and Chloe immediately began piling food onto my plate, her eyes lingering worriedly on my bandaged forehead.

"I tripped and bumped it," I lied quietly. "It's nothing."

Chloe stared at the gauze, her lips trembling, but she didn't push.

She ladled a bowl of rich tomato beef soup and placed it in front of me. "Have some soup first."

I took a warm sip. It had simmered for hours, rich and comforting.

Halfway through the meal, I set my fork down.

"Chloe," I said evenly. "I'm moving back to New York to get married."

The fork slipped from Chloe's hand, clattering against the plate. She stared at me, wide-eyed, as if she had misheard.

"What did you just say?"

"I said I'm moving back to New York to get married," I repeated, my tone calm and steady. "An arranged match with the Reed family. Set up by our elders."

Chloe froze for several long seconds. Then, out of nowhere, she threw her arms around me and burst into tears.

"You've suffered so much all these years," she sobbed into my shoulder. "My brother... he failed you so badly."

I rubbed her back gently. I didn't shed a single tear.

I had already run out of tears a long time ago.

After dinner, Julian drove over to pick me up.

His sports car was parked at the curb, and he was leaning against the driver's door smoking a cigarette. When he saw me step out of the building, he crushed the cigarette out and pulled open the passenger door.

I slid inside. Up on the balcony, Chloe stood watching us.

After driving for a few blocks, Julian broke the heavy silence.

"What did you tell Chloe?" His voice sounded strained. "She just texted me asking if you're really getting married."

I looked out the window. "I am."

"Stella Ward!" Julian slammed on the brakes, pulling the car abruptly to the shoulder. He turned to glare at me. "What is wrong with you? That arranged match is just family chatter. Why are you treating it like it's real?!"

"Because it is real," I said, turning my eyes to meet his furious gaze. "I'm moving to New York to get married, Julian."

"To whom?!" His voice rose with panic. "That stranger? You've never even laid eyes on the guy!"

"It doesn't matter whether I've met him," I countered softly. "At least he won't make me wait for years in the dark."

Julian stared at me for a long time, then suddenly let out a laugh—a brittle laugh edged with desperation.

"You're just throwing a tantrum," he scoffed. "Once I pamper you for a few days, you'll be fine. You always do this. You make a scene, and then you come right back."

He reached into his designer coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, pushing it toward me.

Inside lay my mother's watch. It had been repaired, the second hand ticking with a faint, rhythmic click.

"Stop joking around," he pleaded, his voice dropping into a gentle cadence. "Look, I had the watch fixed. Put it on."

I stared at the watch, making no move to take it.

My mother's watch... so what if it was fixed? Once something shatters, no amount of glue can ever make it whole again.

Julian's hand remained suspended in the air. After a long silence, he slowly pulled it back.

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll give you some space. You'll come to your senses soon enough."

He shifted into drive and didn't utter another word for the rest of the ride.

Back at the estate, I went straight up to my room.

Late that night, I sat on my bed browsing the wedding venues and bridal gown photos Clara had sent me over text. The venue was a private historic estate in upstate New York, boasting sprawling green lawns and a sunlit glass conservatory. The dress Clara picked was a minimalist A-line cut, elegant and unadorned.

I swiped through the pictures carefully, studying every detail.

The bedroom door pushed open, and Julian walked in. The moment he caught sight of the bridal gowns on my screen, his face hardened.

"How long are you going to keep this act up?" He stepped over, reaching down to snatch the phone from my hand. "What's so interesting about these stupid pictures?"

I pulled my phone back smoothly, ignoring his presence as I continued scrolling.

Julian stood by the mattress, chest heaving with silent irritation. In the end, he said nothing and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Once he was gone, I opened my contacts and saved my fiancé's phone number.

I didn't know his name, and I had never met him. In the contact nickname field, I typed a single phrase: Arranged by Family.

After saving it, I set the phone on the nightstand and switched off the lamp.

That night, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.