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.

Without warning, Dominic grabbed Stella's wrist, his grip shackling her.

Stella winced, her brow furrowing as she glanced up at him. His eyes, however, were fixed on Celine, who was laughing and chatting with another guy, clearly enjoying herself. The sight made Stella's stomach twist, but she didn't let it show.

She sighed, trying to remove her hand, but Dominic's grip wouldn't budge.

"If you can't hold it in any longer," he snapped, his voice sharp with frustration, "just go apologize and make up."

Stella’s chest tightened. 'Why was it always her who had to be the one to fix things when Dominic fought with Celine?'

She bit back her frustration, but it was getting harder to hold on.

It wasn't until Celine reached for a third bottle of alcohol, about to drink herself into oblivion, that Dominic finally lost his cool. He snatched the bottle out of her hand with a force that startled everyone in the room.

“Drinking this much? Are you trying to kill yourself?” he hissed, his voice full of disbelief.

But Celine wasn't having it. She shot him a hurt look, almost playful like she wasn't taking him seriously at all.

“Why do you care what I do?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Aren't you supposed to be spending time with your girlfriend? For her birthday?”

Her eyes flickered toward Stella, a malicious gleam flashing in them.

At that moment, every eye in the room turned toward Stella. The atmosphere grew thick with mockery. Subtle smirks, quiet whispers, and veiled malice surrounded her. But she didn't flinch. She met their stares with a calm that bordered on eerie, unshaken. No shame. No embarrassment.

She had been here before.

Celine took a few deliberate steps toward Stella, her bottle still in hand, a smug grin spreading across her face. "Stella, everyone says I'm just the clingy mistress, and you're the real girlfriend. But that's not true.”

Her voice cracked as she feigned crying. "I'm just sick, okay? I want Nicky to spend more time with me. You won't mind, right?”

Her words came out in desperation, but Stella didn't buy it for a second.

Stella let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. “I do mind. If you didn't mind, you wouldn't be clinging to him, would you?"

The bluntness of Stella's remark surprised Celine. She froze, and her eyes widened, unsure of how to respond. Stella had caught her off guard for once, and there was no way out.

Before Celine could regroup, Dominic stepped in, his brow furrowing in confusion and disappointment. He placed himself between them, making Stella look like she had just kicked a puppy.

"Celine has depression. Why are you picking on her?" he asked, his tone full of doubt.

He turned to Stella, his voice dripping with annoyance. "Apologize to Celine."

Stella's eyes hardened. She couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to her like that.

She gave him a cold, dismissive sneer before returning to Celine. Without missing a beat, Stella grabbed the bottle from Celine's hand, tilted it back, and downed it in one go.

Still smiling, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Enjoy yourselves, everyone, but I'll pass."

With that, she turned and walked away, heading for the bathroom.

Once inside, she vomited violently, her stomach churning as the room spun around her. It felt like she was purging every last bit of her patience, every ounce of her hope.

After a few minutes, she leaned against the bathroom sink, trying to steady herself. Her body trembled as she gathered her thoughts.

The door opened with a creak, and Celine walked in, flanked by two of her followers. The usual smile was gone, replaced by a cold, vicious glare.

The girls quickly closed in on Stella, pinning her down with ease.

Without warning, Celine slapped her. The sound of skin-on-skin echoed in the small space.

The sting of the slap shot through Stella's cheek, shocking her more than anything else.

"Stella,” Celine sneered, her voice laced with venom. "Do you think your little game of 'playing hard to get' is working? Do you think Nicky will fall for you because of this? Let me show you whether he loves you or me."

Stella’s eyes narrowed, her breath coming in shallow bursts, but Celine's behavior turned darker before she could speak.

In an unexpected and disturbing move, Celine began slapping herself—hard. Each strike was more forceful than the last until her face was bruised and swollen, her skin an angry shade of red. The manic laughter that followed made Stella's skin crawl.

This wasn't depression. No, this looked more like mania.

Before Stella could process what was happening, the door burst open. Dominic appeared frantic, his eyes wide with panic.

The moment Celine saw him, she collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Nicky!” she cried, her voice a jumbled mess of desperation. "I just wanted to care for Stella, but… she… she hit me! What did I do wrong?”

Her words were incoherent, her body trembling as she buried her face in his chest. "I know Stella's your girlfriend, I get it. I'm just the past, but I can't stop loving you. Do I not even have the right to love you anymore silently?”

Her tears poured down her face, her sobs so loud they seemed to fill the entire room.

Dominic's expression softened, pity flooding his gaze as he looked down at Celine. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. But then, his eyes flickered toward Stella.

Fury twisted his face.

“Stella, have you gone crazy?!” he shouted, his voice rising angrily. "How could you be so cruel?!"

His words hit Stella like a slap. 'Vicious?'

She felt a sickening twist in her stomach.

"If anything happens to Celine," Dominic hissed, "you'll pay big time!"

His words were a punch to the gut. Without waiting for her to respond, Dominic scooped Celine up in his arms, rushing toward the door with desperation.

Without a second glance at Stella, he bolted out of the room, his footsteps echoing as he rushed to the hospital.

And Stella stood there, her body trembling, her mind reeling.

Stella stepped out of the bathroom, her body trembling with discomfort. She tried to steady herself, but a sudden heat wave rushed through her.

'The alcohol from earlier... Had it been spiked?'

A sharp, cold sense of danger cut through her chest, and her heart began to race. She staggered down the hallway, but before she could get far, she collided with a man stumbling toward her. His eyes were glazed, his grin wide and unsettling. It was clear he'd been waiting for her.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

Everything—everything—had been planned by Celine.

"What do you want?" Stella asked, her voice trembling as she struggled to keep her composure.

But already, her body was betraying her. Weakness seeped into her limbs, and her vision began to blur. The drug was kicking in full force.

The man let out a low chuckle, his voice dripping with hunger. "What do I want, bitch? Let's make tonight unforgettable, yeah?" He laughed again, the sound sending a chill down her spine.

Desperation surged within her. Stella stumbled back, but before she could get away, the man lunged, grabbing her wrist with a force that left her gasping.

Her fingers fumbled for her phone, her heart pounding as she dialed Dominic's number. The seconds dragged by, and all she could hear was the relentless, impersonal, busy signal.

'No... No, no, no…!'

Finally, Dominic's voice blared through the speaker when the call connected.

"How dare you call me—" he began, but Stella interrupted him.

"Dom, I've been drugged!" she gasped, her breath ragged, the words tumbling out in a rush.

There was a pause, followed by a cold, detached laugh. "Drugged? And then what? Are you trying to say some man wants to sleep with you?" Dominic's voice was mocking. "Find a better excuse for your lies, Stella. If you want to sleep with men so badly, why don't you go find a few more?"

The line went dead.

Stella felt her heart crack, the sound reverberating in her chest. Her body trembled violently, her skin pale, her breath shallow. She could barely hold herself up as the man's filthy hand reached for her again.

Panic surged like a tidal wave.

With little strength she had left, Stella grabbed the nearest hairpin, the cold metal in her hand offering her a semblance of control.

She slashed it across her arm. The pain was immediate, sharp, and blinding, but it cut through the haze of the drug, the effects starting to fade just enough for her to focus.

The blood welled up in a hot, crimson line, dripping to the floor. Stella gripped the hairpin tightly, her hand shaking, and held it to her neck.

"Stay away!" she shouted. "If you want to be a murderer, then come at me!"

Her eyes met his with an intensity that could've burned through stone. The fury in her gaze was as sharp as the hairpin in her throat, and her voice rang with a cold, unwavering determination.

She would die before letting him take even a sliver of her dignity.

The man hesitated, clearly startled by the fire in her eyes. He cursed under his breath, his face shifting from arrogance to fear.

Then, he turned and fled, muttering, "Crazy woman," as he disappeared down the hallway.

Stella stood frozen, her breath ragged, her pulse pounding in her ears. She waited, heart thumping until she was sure he was gone. Only then did she let out a long, shuddering breath of relief.

Her hands, still shaking, fumbled for her phone again. This time, she dialed the emergency number. But before she could press send, everything around her went black.

When she woke, the pain hit her first—a dull ache in her arm, a sharp throb in her stomach.

She groaned softly, her voice hoarse from the strain. "Ugh…"

A nurse rushed over, helping her sit up gently. Stella's vision cleared, and she looked down at herself. Her arm was in a cast, and there were signs of the drug still lingering on her pallor, the weakness evident in her body.

The nurse's expression softened with concern, but her tone showed a hint of disapproval.

"Miss," she said quietly, "you shouldn't be going to places like that. If you hadn't been clever enough to cut your arm and fight off the effects, you might've…"

The nurse trailed off, the unspoken words hanging like a heavy fog. She sighed deeply, as though she had seen this kind of thing too many times before, and walked away.

Stella gave a bitter, hollow smile. She hadn't asked for any of this. She had never wanted to end up in a situation like this.

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table. The screen lit up with dozens of messages from Dominic. When he finally couldn't stand the silence anymore, he called.

"Where are you?" His voice was tight, but the anger behind it was clear.

Stella didn't hesitate.

"The hospital," she replied flatly.

There was a brief, incredulous laugh on the other end. "So now you want to play the victim, Stella? Lying about being in the hospital to escape responsibility?”

He paused for a moment, and then his voice turned venomous. "When did you become like this? Do you even realize that Celine's depression has gotten worse because of you?"

Celine's voice dripped with sweetness on the other end of the line, like honey masking poison. She played the part of the concerned, innocent one, twisting everything to make it sound like Stella was the villain.

"Don't worry, Nicky. I'm okay. I just need some rest," Celine's voice cooed, so convincing it could've fooled anyone who didn't know her better.

Dominic's tone softened instantly, his usual coldness melting away. "Alright, baby. Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

But then, the change in his voice was unmistakable as he turned to Stella. His tone turned sharp and cold—like an order.

"Half an hour. Come to the hospital and apologize to Celine, or we're done."

Before Stella could respond, the line went dead.

Stella stared at the phone in her hand, numb. For a moment, she just laughed—a bitter, hollow sound. The laughter faltered, turning into tears, but something inside her hardened even as the tears fell. Her jaw clenched, and her eyes steeled.

Ten minutes later, Stella found herself in the hospital lobby, settling her bill. And just as fate would have it, she ran into Dominic and Celine.

When Dominic saw her in a hospital gown, his eyes widened in shock. But before he could process it, his anger erupted.

"You really are something else, huh?" Dominic sneered. "You think I'll pity you for this? Apologize to Celine right now!"

His words were like a slap, but Stella didn't flinch. She met his gaze head-on, unshaken.

"Why should I?" Stella asked calmly.

Dominic's face turned an angry shade of red. "You hit her, Stella, and you're asking why?"

"I didn't hit her," Stella said, her eyes locked on Celine. "You tell me—did I hit you?"

Celine flinched, her eyes wide with fear as she ducked behind Dominic, her body trembling.

"Nicky, I'm scared…" she whimpered.

But Stella saw through it—the fear was a show, a façade. Behind her trembling eyes was the smallest smirk, just enough to make Stella's stomach churn.

"Enough!" Dominic bellowed. "You're still trying to intimidate Celine in front of me?"

Stella didn't flinch. She pushed his hand away and stood tall, unaffected.

With a calm that sent a chill down the hallway, she walked toward Celine.

"You want me to apologize?" Stella's voice was ice-cold. "Fine. Here's my apology."

Celine's face turned pale.

Her eyes were full of panic as she stammered, "S-Stella—"

Before Celine could finish, Stella slapped her hard.