Chapter 6

Stella's POV

Six days left.

A rare, violent storm hit New York.

I left the office early and returned to the penthouse.

There were still too many things to clean out. I grabbed a large black trash bag and began purging the place of my existence.

In the bathroom: our matching electric toothbrushes. Tossed.

In the walk-in closet: the limited-edition silk tie I spent an entire month's salary on for him. Tossed.

In the study: the Lego model we spent a month building together. I knocked it over without hesitation and swept the pieces into the bag.

Finally, I walked over to the display cabinet in the living room.

Inside sat a custom-made flight helmet. It was the first gift Justin gave me after he recovered. On the side, he had hand-painted an eagle soaring through the clouds, with the words. "To my Queen, Stella."

I used to treat this helmet like a holy relic, polishing it every single day.

But now, looking at that eagle, it just felt like a cruel joke.

I had clipped my own wings for him, and he had painted me an eagle.

With a blank expression, I opened the cabinet, pulled the helmet out, and threw it right into the trash bag.

At 10:00 PM, Justin came home reeking of alcohol. I heard his heavy footsteps entering the penthouse.

He had been out drinking, but I would never again brew him warm milk and gently scold him like I used to.

When he opened the bedroom door, all he found was darkness.

I hadn't left a light on for him, hadn't prepared any hangover soup, and wasn't waiting on the sofa.

I heard Justin flip on the lights and stumble around the living room. Then, his frantic footsteps began pacing around the penthouse, searching for something.

He must have noticed. The helmet was gone, the toothbrushes were gone, the mugs had been downsized to one, and even his favorite tie had vanished.

"Stella!" Justin burst into the bedroom.

I was propped up against the pillows, reading a book. I didn't even look up at his voice. "What?"

"Where is the helmet?!" Justin's eyes were bloodshot, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and sheer panic. "The flight helmet I got you! Where is it?!"

I flipped a page, my voice as casual as if I were commenting on the weather. "Oh, that. I accidentally cracked it while cleaning the other day. It was ruined, so I threw it out."

"You threw it out?!" Justin stared at me in disbelief, as if looking at a complete stranger. "That was our first-anniversary gift! That was our memory! Even if it was cracked, we could have fixed it! Why would you throw it away?!"

I finally closed the book and looked up at him.

My gaze was clear, sharp, and freezing, cutting right through his lies.

"Justin, when something is broken, it's broken," I said softly, yet ruthlessly. "You can't fix a crack. Keeping a broken object only risks cutting yourself. It's much easier to just throw it away."

Justin looked as if he had been struck by lightning.

He stared into my eyes, trying to find any trace of spite or jealousy. But there was none. There was only absolute calmness. A calmness that bred despair.

"Do you..." Justin's throat bobbed with difficulty, his voice raspy and terrified. "Do you know something?"

Looking at his guilty face, I only felt pity.

I didn't even have the energy to expose him.

"I know you've been stressed lately," I said, reopening my book and returning to my professional, distant tone. "Go take a shower and get some sleep. I have to meet with the San Francisco team tomorrow. Goodnight."

Justin stood frozen by the bed, watching me look back down at my book. He didn't say another word.

I wasn't going to argue with him. I was just preparing my quiet exit.