Chapter 192: Stella’s Feelings
Faced with Mason's direct and burning question, Stella's ears instantly flushed red. Her heartbeat lost its rhythm. In the end, she pressed her lips together and gently avoided his gaze, offering no answer.
She dared not confront her own feelings, much less speak aloud the emotions that had long since begun to waver in her heart. She could only choose silence.
In the days that followed, Stella never left his bedside, caring for him constantly.
She changed his bandages on schedule, fed him water and meals, helped him bathe at night, and quietly stayed by his side—gentle and attentive.
Yet the doctor had long since said that Mason's constitution was excellent, that the gunshot wounds on his back and side had completely healed within half a month, and that he could move freely without issue.
But this man stubbornly remained bedridden, feigning pain from his wounds and weakness throughout his body. He waited for Stella to bring water to his lips even for a simple drink, doing everything possible to act helpless and needy, all just to keep her by his side a little longer.
At first, Stella noticed nothing, continuing to care for him with wholehearted concern.
Until this afternoon, when she entered the room carrying warm water and happened to see Mason with his back to her, raising his arms to flex his shoulders and bending to stretch his waist with fluid, effortless movements—not a trace of injury or discomfort.
Stella understood instantly and began to sulk.
She set the glass down heavily on the nightstand, turned her head away from him, puffed out her cheeks slightly, her eyes carrying a hint of anger, and refused to speak to him.
Sensing her displeasure, a flash of panic crossed Mason's eyes. He immediately abandoned all pretense, lay back down, and assumed a weak posture. Carefully, he reached out to tug at the corner of her clothing, his voice impossibly soft, utterly devoid of the sharpness of a crime lord—only coaxing and indulgence remained: "I was wrong, baby. Please don't be angry."
"I just wanted you to stay with me longer, so I pretended I hadn't recovered. I'll never do it again, okay?"
He lowered every bit of his pride, patiently coaxing the sulking girl, gentle and accommodating, looking obedient and pitiful.
Watching the man before her—his eyes full of nothing but her, setting aside all arrogance to make her happy—the grievances and defenses Stella had accumulated in her heart completely melted away.
Over this past year of constant companionship, what had once felt like a terrifying cage had slowly transformed into a secure haven.
Every moment, he cherished her above all else. She didn't have to face the world's cruelty or navigate its treachery. He shielded her from every storm, and she possessed completely his singular devotion and sense of security. She truly understood what it meant to be treasured, to be firmly loved.
After a long silence, Stella lowered her eyes and spoke softly, asking the question she'd kept in her heart for so long: "Why are you so good to me?"
Mason raised his hand and gently ruffled her soft hair, his gaze sincere and reverent, without a hint of insincerity: "Because you're worth it."
Those simple words surpassed a thousand sweet nothings.
Stella's nose tingled. She continued to ask: "You could have forced me to stay by your side. You didn't have to keep accommodating me, waiting for me. Why have you never pressured me?"
He held absolute power here, controlling everything with an iron grip. Trapping her would have been effortless. He didn't need to spend so much patience, waiting gently day after day.
Mason gazed at her reddening eyes, his fingertips lightly tracing the back of her hand, his voice tender yet firm: "I like you, so I can't bear to force you. I only want to cherish you, to wait until you willingly come to me, not to trap you by force."
These words struck the softest place in Stella's heart. Her defenses completely crumbled. The surging emotions could no longer be suppressed.
She looked up, her eyes misting over, her voice trembling slightly as she asked quietly: "Then what if... I never agree for the rest of my life?"
Mason's eyes softened, his smile impossibly gentle. Without a trace of resentment or coercion, still full of sincerity: "Then it means I haven't done well enough..."
In that moment, Stella was completely moved.
Large tears fell without warning from the corners of her eyes, pattering onto the bedding. The emotions she'd held back for so long erupted completely. Her tears wouldn't stop.
Mason instantly panicked. His previously composed expression turned utterly flustered. He hurriedly raised his hand to clumsily wipe away her tears, repeatedly soothing her softly, at a complete loss: "Why are you crying? Don't cry, okay? Did I say something wrong? Baby, please don't cry."
He'd always been decisive and ruthless, facing countless enemies with calm composure. But faced with her tears, he was completely helpless, only able to call her "baby" over and over, gently coaxing.
Yet the more panicked and gentle he became, the harder Stella cried. All the gratitude, grievance, and affection poured out with her tears.
Just as Mason grew frantic with worry, Stella suddenly threw her arms open and buried herself in his warm, solid embrace, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, pressing her face against his chest, and choking out words.
"I want to go home."
The instant those words fell, Mason's entire body stiffened. His arms around her tightened abruptly, the tenderness in his eyes completely fading as his expression turned cold.
What he feared most had finally come.
No matter how much tenderness he gave, no matter how much patience he devoted, she still wanted to leave this place, to return to where she belonged, to leave him completely.
A dense, aching sourness and panic spread through his chest. His throat bobbed. His voice came out low and hoarse. He couldn't bring himself to respond.
But the next second, the soft, choked voice from the person in his arms sounded again, falling gently by his ear, clear and solemn.
"Come home with me."