Chapter 34

▫️Stella's POV...

Oh my freaking God. Christian said sorry to me. Let me repeat that: SORRY. For a moment, I thought, this man is mine. Just mine. But nope! This dude turned around and showed me his true color—a bright, glaring red flag.

You wanna know what he said next? He likes someone else. Like, excuse me? What do you mean, “I like someone else”? Aren’t I standing right here? HELLO. Also, let’s not forget, I'm his wife—okay, fine, fake wife, but that’s beside the point! What the hell does he mean, she's pretty? Am I not pretty?

And with that, I kicked him out of my room. Hard. My mind was a swirling mess of “Who the hell is she?” and “How dare she exist?” She must be some circus clown making him laugh, right? Or maybe a bright orange cat? Or some basic bitch with glitter eyeliner. Ugh.

The audacity of this man. He made me pretend to be his wife, kissed me for God knows how many times and for what reason, and now he’s all lovey-dovey with some mysterious other girl? Let me tell you how this story goes: he’ll probably marry her, then kick me out, they’ll have sex all over the damn place, and I’ll catch them mid-whatever—and I'll laugh at their wrong position and then BOOM, he’ll shoot me. Bang. The end.

But I digress. I needed help. So I called Ava.

“Hey, I know I’m interrupting you both at this hour but this is urgent.”

Ava sighed, “It’s fine. What happened now?”

MJ chimed in from the background, because, of course, he’s nosy. “Everything okay?”

“No! It’s not fine! Ava, you remember what I told you earlier?” She nodded on the other end of the call, and I spilled it all. “Christian came to me and said sorry!”

Ava squealed, “That’s adorable!”

MJ smirked. “Because he likes you.” He quickly slapped his hand over his mouth, like he hadn’t just spilled some serious tea.

My jaw dropped. “Wait. Hold up. Who told you this? Was it Nick?!”

MJ just grinned and shrugged. “It’s obvious.”

I was like, “If it’s so obvious, let me give you the plot twist of the century: Christian doesn’t like me. He likes someone else.”

Ava gasped. “Who?!”

“I don’t know!” I said dramatically, pacing around like I was on a soap opera. “Apparently, it was a misunderstanding. Nick thought Christian was describing me, but nope, it’s some other girl.”

MJ tapped the table like he was plotting a heist. “ I can bet either it's you… or no one.”

That made me pause. I wanted to believe him, but this was Christian we were talking about. So I said, “Listen, I’m telling you, he said he likes someone, and it’s not me.”

MJ shook his head like I was the clueless one. “You know what you need? A boyfriend of your own.”

I snorted. “Sure. Sign me up. Because I feel like shit.” Then I rambled about how, when Nick told me Christian liked me, I started thinking about it, and boom, now I feel like an idiot.

Ava asked the million-dollar question. “So… if Christian did like you, what would you do?”

I froze. “I mean… I’d give it a chance.” A CHANCE. Because let’s face it, the man is hot. And reliable. But now? Nope. He’s off pining for some other girl, and I’m not about to be the second choice in anyone’s life.

MJ smirked. “I have a plan. Just trust me and Nick and Liam on this one.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What plan?”

“Not telling,” MJ said with a wink. “But trust the process.”

Great. I hung up, but my head was spinning. What were they planning? And why not Christian? I mean, I like him—a little too much, probably—but he doesn’t like me.

Should I ask him for the last time? May be it was a slip of tongue, my dumbass mind thought. May my extinct self respect rest in peace.

Before I knew it, I was storming into Christian’s room like a woman possessed. He looked up from his phone, probably texting his crush, that bitch.

“Do you really like someone?” I blurted out.

He looked confused, like I’d just asked him if he’d murdered someone. “…Yes?”

“Who?”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because I want to know,” I snapped. “You owe me that much after everything.”

He hesitated, then said, “Her name’s Rebecca.”

Oh. Rebecca. Rebecca? What kind of shitty name is that?

“So you really like her?” I asked, my voice sharp.

He just stared at me, and then, out of nowhere, said, “Are you sleeping here tonight? I mean, we patched up, so why not?”

“NO. Because I don’t share beds with someone else’s boyfriend!”

“But you’re my wife,” he said with a smirk.

I laughed bitterly. “This isn’t a joke, Christian. I’m your fake wife. Rebecca’s your real girlfriend—or soon will be. Just divorce me already if you’re so into her. I can't stand an asshole like you and a slut like her.”

I slammed the door on my way out, ignoring him calling after me.

"We'll talk tomorrow Chris. Don't even say a word now."

I was done. Done with this fake marriage, done with his stupid smirk, and done with whatever feelings I had for him.

But as I sat in my room, my chest felt tight. I didn’t want to be done with him. I wanted him. But he didn’t want me.

Or did he?

No he is already planning to have sex with that bitch. Should I chop his...?

SHUT THE FUCK UP AND SLEEP.