Stella found herself resenting everything Celine liked, including the necklace Dominic had just given her. It felt like a symbol of someone else's love—someone else's devotion—something she no longer wanted. Standing there, she lowered her gaze, subtly distancing herself from him.

With a long, tired sigh, she finally spoke. "It's late, Dominic. I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

Behind her, she heard his voice soften, still pleading. "Stella, you know Celine has depression... please, try to understand."

His words hit her like a dull ache. They were a reminder of everything she had sacrificed.

Dominic continued, attempting to soften the blow. "Once Celine gets better, I'll be able to be with you all the time."

Stella swallowed hard, the bitterness rising in her throat. "There won't be a future."

...

The next morning, Stella woke early, the weight of the previous night still lingering. She didn't waste any time overthinking it. Instead, she headed straight to the hair salon.

The dark green waves that had once been Dominic's request—his preference—were gone. She was back to her natural black, straight hair. The hair she had always loved, the one that felt like her.

She spent the rest of the day shopping for clothes she liked—clothes that made her feel like herself, not someone else's idea of who she should be. No more spaghetti straps. No more pretending to fit into a mold that was never hers.

It felt liberating.

But then, as she scrolled through her phone, her stomach sank when she saw a notification for Celine's live stream. She froze. She knew exactly what it meant.

More of Dominic, Celine, and everything she was trying to forget.

With a resigned sigh, she canceled all the accounts related to Celine. The streams were always the same—Celine, with Dominic by her side, always playing the part of the perfect couple. He'd even declared Celine his "personal assistant," promising to protect her from anyone who might hurt her.

But to Stella, the most painful part wasn't the promises. It was the way Dominic would always talk about her.

"I'll take care of you. You don't need to work," he'd say. The words cut deeper than any betrayal.

Stella shook her head, pushing those thoughts aside. She was done with Dominic. Done with Celine.

Or so she thought.

...

As she turned a corner in the mall, she nearly bumped into them.

There they were—Dominic and Celine—laughing together as they shopped. Dominic was carrying several shopping bags, his eyes soft with affection, his smile warm and easy.

And Celine? She was live-streaming, of course, beaming at the camera, looking every bit the picture-perfect couple.

Stella's stomach twisted. She glanced down at her phone, her thumb scrolling absent-mindedly.

Ten minutes ago, Dominic sent her a message:

[I'm working, I'll bring you something delicious tonight.]

'Working? Shopping with Celine, eating, live-streaming?' Stella huffed in frustration

The absurdity of it all hit her in a wave, and she couldn't help but laugh—bitterly and loud enough to draw attention.

Celine noticed her first, waving at her with a wide smile as if she hadn't just witnessed Dominic comforting Stella earlier.

Dominic faltered for a moment, and then his expression hardened. He frowned. "Why did you dye your hair back?" His voice was laced with disapproval, though it sounded more like a complaint than genuine concern.

Stella didn't even glance at Celine's camera. She wasn't about to be part of their little performance. "I like it this way," she said flatly, keeping her tone neutral, her heart completely detached.

Without waiting for a response, she added, "I won't disturb your live-stream," before turning on her heel and leaving them behind.

Dominic watched her leave, his gaze darkening for a moment. But as his eyes moved to Celine, his expression softened. He smiled almost reassuringly.

"It's fine. Stella won't mind," he said, though the words seemed more for his own benefit than anyone else's.

Celine, who had already turned off the stream, looked up at Dominic, her eyes glistening with feigned concern.

"Nicky, Stella seems upset. It's all my fault." Her voice wavered, dripping with needy desperation. "But... I only have you. You can't leave me."

Dominic, as always, softened at her pleas. He pulled Celine into an embrace, his arms wrapping around her protectively. "It's okay, Celine. Don't worry, I'm here for you."

Stella stood there, watching the scene unfold from afar. It felt like a punch to the gut. For a moment, she couldn't even tell who was supposed to be Dominic's real girlfriend anymore.

But, honestly? It didn't matter.

Soon, she wouldn't be anyone's girlfriend at all. And Dominic, she realized with a sudden clarity, wasn't worth her love.

...

A week later, as she prepared to return to the capital, Stella decided it was time to pack up her room—time to remove the last remnants of the life she was leaving behind.

Her room was filled with things Dominic had chosen for her and things he'd bought. The small spaghetti straps he'd insisted she wear. The luxury gifts he'd given her...

Everything Stella had once cherished, which had felt like treasures, was now being packed away. Her belongings were few, a collection of old clothes and trinkets. One suitcase was enough to carry it all.

As she sifted through the pile, her eyes landed on a framed photo of herself and Dominic sitting on the desk.

For a moment, she froze. The warmth of his past kindness still lingered in her memory—clear, almost too sharp.

A thought from her school days popped into her mind:

'Is it better to never have regrets, or is it worse to have something than lose it and live with that regret?' The question twisted her stomach.

It had been so easy to fall for Dominic, to give him everything. But now, as she stood in this room surrounded by the remnants of a life she was leaving behind, Stella wasn't sure if it had all been worth it.

She shook her head to clear the thoughts, gathering the things she'd sorted out and ready to throw them away. It took several trips to the trash bins to dispose of everything.

She didn't look back.

"Why are you downstairs?" Dominic's voice broke through her thoughts as he walked in, his tone lazy. He grabbed her hand without looking at her, his eyes still fixed on his phone. His other hand was typing furiously, fingers flying over the screen as though he were racing against time.

Stella didn't meet his gaze.

She pulled her hand away and kept her voice even. "Just throwing out some trash."

Dominic didn't respond immediately, humming absently, unsure if he'd even heard her. But as they reached the door, he finally looked up from his phone.

"What did you just say?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly, noticing something was off.

Stella pulled her hand out of his grasp and kept her face impassive. "Nothing."

Dominic set his phone down, finally giving her his full attention. His expression shifted, and he stepped closer, his arm slipping around her waist, pulling her toward him with practiced ease.

"Are you mad again?" he asked teasingly, his voice softening with the same relaxed tone he always used when he thought he could charm her back.

In the past, this would have made Stella melt. She would have believed it was a sign that Dominic still cared. But with time, she'd learned that Dominic treated everyone with that same detached affection. It wasn't real.

And when it came to Celine, it was a whole different story. With her, Dominic was tender, protective, and even nervous. It was a kind of care Stella could never envy.

He stroked her hair, trying to soften the mood. "I was working today, but Celine said she was bored and wanted to go to the mall. She insisted, and I couldn't say no."

He continued, oblivious to how the words landed. "I didn't expect to see you there. Why didn't you tell me you were going?"

Stella raised an eyebrow, her voice flat. "If I had told you, would you have left Celine behind to be with me?"

For three years, Dominic had never been with her on a simple shopping trip. His excuse had always been that it would be too awkward—that someone might see them and expose their relationship.

But now, with Celine back in the picture, suddenly, those concerns didn't matter. Dominic no longer cared about looking awkward. He only cared about pleasing Celine.

"Stella," Dominic chuckled, his tone patronizing. "You're being stubborn, baby. Do you want me to punish you?"

He leaned in to kiss her, his lips hovering just a breath away.

But Stella pulled back, her eyes hardening.

Dominic's smile faltered, and his face darkened. His patience, once a constant with her, seemed to drain instantly.

"Stella, stop being unreasonable." His voice dropped, frustration creeping in. "I've already explained that Celine has depression. I need to be there for her." His tone grew sharper like he couldn't believe she wasn't getting it. "You're always jealous, making things difficult for Celine and me. Can't you just be a little more understanding?"

Stella's lips curled into a bitter smile. She let out a short, humorless laugh.

Dominic frowned, clearly confused. "What's so funny?"

Stella met his gaze, her voice steady but cold. "I'm not jealous, Dom." She paused, her eyes narrowing, a slight edge to her voice. "And I won't be jealous of you ever again."

Before she could finish, Dominic's expression turned ice-cold. His face hardened into something unrecognizable.

"Are you trying to be sarcastic?" he snapped.

Without waiting for an answer, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Stella couldn't help but laugh, though it was more out of disbelief than amusement.

Was he really falling apart over this?

Dominic didn't return home for several days after that. Stella kept herself busy. She scrolled through job listings online, looking for positions in the city.

Although her family could easily help her find something, she wanted to prove she could make it alone.

Every so often, Stella would step out to catch a movie or just to clear her head. Without Dominic in her life, everything felt lighter—less complicated. She was starting to rediscover what it meant to be herself again.

Peter called her every other day, his voice like a constant reminder of home. "Didn't we agree you'd be back in a week? It's been five days already. What’s taking you so long?"

Stella smiled as she listened to his familiar nagging. Hearing someone care so much about the details of her life was oddly comforting. For a moment, she felt really happy. It was the kind of joy that she hadn't experienced in a while.

"Come on, Pete! A week is seven days, not five," she teased, enjoying the easy back-and-forth.

Peter paused, clearly caught off guard.

"Wait, really?" he chuckled. "I could've sworn it's five." Then, he diverted the conversation. "Anyway, let's get serious. Isn’t tomorrow your birthday? Your fiancé’s been sending gifts like crazy. Your room's practically overflowing."

Stella raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "He’s more thoughtful than your little boyfriend, don’t you think?"

The mention of her fiancé made Stella pause for a moment. "How does he know it’s my birthday? Did you tell him?"

Before she could worry further, Peter scoffed. "I didn’t say a word. I have no idea how he found out, but listen—those who care don’t need to be taught, and those who don’t care can’t be taught."

Stella couldn’t help but laugh at that. "By the way, didn’t your little boyfriend do anything for your birthday?"

Just then, a familiar voice cut through the conversation. "What do you mean, 'do anything'?"

Stella froze.

Peter nearly dropped the phone. "Dominic?! Is that—Is he there? Why is he there at this hour?!"

Stella’s heart skipped a beat. Panic surged, but she quickly scrambled to cover her tracks. "You must’ve heard wrong. It's just the movie. I’m gonna take a shower now. We’ll talk later."

She hung up quickly, her hands trembling slightly.

Dominic was standing there, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, like a child who had just pulled off the perfect prank.

Stella’s eyes narrowed, instantly cold. "Why are you back all of a sudden?"

Dominic, as casual as ever, didn’t miss a beat. "This is my house. Why wouldn’t I come back?"

Stella went silent. That’s right. This wasn’t her home.

He shrugged, completely unbothered, and shifted the conversation. "Get dressed. I’m taking you out for your birthday."

Stella glanced at the clock. There were still thirty minutes until midnight.

Half an hour later, her phone buzzed nonstop with birthday wishes and money transfers from family and friends:

[Happy Birthday, Stella! Another year older, may you grow with joy!]

[Happy Birthday, my dear daughter! Not just today, but may every day be filled with happiness!]

[Dear sister, I wish you a wonderful birthday! You’re 23 now, so it’s time to show some respect to your brother, haha!]

The messages made her smile. For a moment, she let herself enjoy the warmth they brought. She sent her thanks to each one. But when she looked up again, her face shifted into something colder, more distant.

Dominic had promised to take her out for her birthday, but instead, she found just one of his meaningless gatherings with friends. It was the kind of get-together where everyone was polite, but no one was present. No one was really there.

Everyone exchanged subtle, awkward glances. Dominic, however, barely seemed to notice her at all. His attention was focused entirely on Celine, who sat across the room, talking animatedly.

On the other hand, Stella found herself sitting alone in the corner, a sad, lonely cake in front of her. No candles. No one sang her a birthday song. No one even looked at her like she mattered.

She was supposed to be the star of the night. The birthday girl. But in that moment, it felt like she didn’t even exist.

It didn’t take much for Stella to see through Dominic’s game. He hadn’t brought her here because he cared. He’d brought her to provoke Celine. They’d fought, and now Dominic was using her to stir up jealousy in Celine. It was petty. Childish. Pathetic.

Stella couldn’t help but feel a bitter mockery rising inside her. This is what happens to people who aren’t loved.

After what felt like an eternity, exhaustion began to settle in. Her eyelids grew heavy, her body tired from the emotional strain. She leaned back in her seat, trying to push the loneliness away.

It was getting harder to care.