The sun was slowly sinking beyond the horizon by the time Stella helped Rose carry a few of her bags into the house. Apparently, she'd bought herself some time earlier—chatting up Daniel at the entrance while secretly waiting for Rose to show up so they could enter together. Typical Stella, always with a plan behind the plan.
Rose took her bags to her room, finally settling in after the short trip. She had barely dropped onto her bed when Daniel called out that food was ready… although "ready" might have been a generous term—he admitted it had been ready for a while. Cold, probably. Suspicious? Most definitely. Rose wasn't sure whether to feel honored or afraid that Daniel had cooked for them.
Still, hunger is hunger.
In the kitchen, the girls reheated what Daniel had prepared. They sat at the small table, cautiously picking at the meal like two food critics about to rip someone apart on national TV. But after the first few bites… there was silence. Long, loaded silence.
Eyes met. Forks paused mid-air. Stella raised a brow. Rose blinked.
The food was… good. Surprisingly, ridiculously good.
Especially for someone like Daniel who, until now, could barely boil water without triggering the smoke alarm.
Daniel stood a few feet away, arms crossed like a nervous parent watching his kid take their first steps. His eyes darted from Rose to Stella, clearly trying to read their poker faces. He couldn't take the silence any longer.
"So…?" he asked, voice teetering between hope and fear.
Rose gave a slow, teasing shrug. "It's… edible."
"Barely," Stella added, lips twitching.
Daniel gasped in mock offense. "Barely? Excuse me, someone is literally licking her plate over there."
Stella, caught red-handed—well, red-tongued—froze mid-swipe and gave Daniel a deadpan glare. "That's a lie."
Rose pointed with her fork. "Then explain that tongue mark on the plate."
"Artistic expression," Stella said with a snort.
They all burst into laughter, and the tension melted like butter on hot toast.
Later, they gathered in the living room, lounging in casual comfort. The topic shifted to Stella's trip.
"So, tell us about the wonders of your grand adventure," Rose said, stretching her legs across the couch.
Stella flopped beside her. "I explored. I hiked. I got lost in a cave. Nearly joined a traveling circus. The usual."
"I'm officially jealous," Rose said with a dreamy sigh.
Daniel, arms folded, frowned dramatically. "And what about me? Don't I get an invite to your future fun?"
Stella looked at him. Blinked. "Who are you again?"
"Rude," Daniel muttered.
Before the teasing could go any further, a door creaked open upstairs. Aunty Addie emerged, gliding into view like a queen surveying her court.
"Oh, you're back," she said, eyeing Rose. "Did you forget to greet me?"
Rose sat up quickly. "Daniel said you were sleeping—I didn't want to disturb you."
"Well, I'm not sleeping now, am I?" Addie said with a gentle frown that Rose caught before it smoothed back into her usual neutral expression.
"I'm really happy to see you," Rose said with a soft smile. But her eyes caught something else—Stella's face.
For a split second, her cheerful friend's expression faltered. Just… shifted. The twinkle in her eye dimmed like a light switch flicked halfway. Rose blinked, unsure of what she just saw.
Stepping forward, Rose tried to ease the tension she couldn't quite name. "Stella this is aunty Adeline —shes the one I mentioned at the store."
Addie turned. "Mentioned me, did you? What exactly was said?"
"Nothing worth worrying about," Rose said quickly. "Aunty Addie, this is Stella my very close friend."
Stella stood up, offering a polite bow and a slightly hesitant handshake.
"Hmm… Stella, is it?" Addie asked, eyes scanning her closely.
Stella nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"Where are you from?"
Stella clearly wasn't expecting that. "Um… here. I'm from here."
Rose noticed the change immediately. Stella, the prankster, the chatterbox, was suddenly quiet and stiff. Her energy had dropped like a stone in water. That wasn't like her at all.
Sensing the tension thickening, Rose jumped in. "Maybe we can save the deep questions for later, yeah?"
Addie's eyes lingered on Stella a moment longer before she nodded and walked back toward her room. But not before giving Stella one last unreadable glance.
When she disappeared, the silence in the room stretched.
Stella stood abruptly. "I should go."
"What? Already?" Daniel asked. "Come on, stay a bit."
"Yeah," Rose added. "At least let me finish bullying you a little."
Stella shook her head with a forced smile. "Next time, Pinky."
At the door, Rose pulled her into a hug, and Stella leaned in, whispering teasingly in her ear, "Try not to miss me too much. I know this house gets five times duller when I leave."
Rose let out a soft laugh and swatted her lightly on the back.
"Ow!" Stella yelped dramatically. "Abuse! Call the authorities!"
"You're so dramatic," Rose said with a grin. Then they both with back into the house.
Stella wiggled her fingers in farewell and made her way to her bike. As she was about to start the engine, a black car pulled up across the street.
A tall man stepped out, suited in black, carrying a nylon bag. His sharp features were striking—handsome, poised, powerful. As he passed Stella, they exchanged a silent nod, wordless but full of weight.
Upstairs, behind the curtain, Addie watched everything from her window. Her gaze narrowed—not at the man, but at the way Stella looked at him. The man was Julian. That much she knew.
And Stella's look? It wasn't casual. It wasn't surprised.
It was recognition.
—
Later that night, back in her apartment, Stella stood before a tall mirror. Not to admire herself, but to assess the large gash on her back.
Blood had started to seep again.
Grimacing, she reached for a towel and dabbed at it carefully, hissing as pain shot through her spine. The mirror reflected a girl who looked nothing like the playful one Rose had hugged an hour ago.
Her eyes burned with hatred.
"That son of a bitch," she hissed under her breath, voice laced with venom. "Good thing he's dead."
Her hands trembled as she wiped the blood away. "I wish I killed him myself…"
She stared at her reflection, disgust curling her lip.
"…Dammit, Rose," she muttered.
And the room fell silent, except for the ticking of a nearby clock and the sharp sound of pain-strained breathing.