Chapter 6

▫️Stella’s POV

Finally, home sweet home. After the long, exhausting day with Chris, I reached my apartment. Dropping my bag near the dresser, I gently hung up the blue gown. Haha, I managed to keep this dress! At least something good came out of today.

Changing into my comfy pajamas, I tied my hair into a messy bun and fell onto my bed. Life felt peaceful for a moment.

Grabbing my phone for the first time in days, I scrolled through missed calls and messages. That’s when I saw it—Jess had called me multiple times.

"Why on earth is Jess calling me?" I thought. I wanted to ignore her, but curiosity won.

I called her back, and she picked up immediately. Her voice was unusually sweet and coated with sugar.

"Stella, I really want to meet you. Please, don’t say no. I’m sorry," she said, her tone almost pleading.

I hesitated but ended up giving her my address. Maybe she really does want to fix things.

---

One Hour Later

When Jess arrived, I opened the door to see her standing there with teary eyes. She reached out, holding my hands tightly.

"Stella, I’m so, so sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "I overreacted that night. I promise I’ll never act like a jerk again. Your friendship means the world to me. Please, give me another chance."

Her sincerity caught me off guard. I handed her a glass of water and gestured for her to sit.

"It’s okay, Jess," I said with a small smile. "Your friendship means a lot to me too. I’m willing to give you a second chance."

Jess’s face lit up, and before I knew it, we were hugging.

We spent the day like old times. First, we watched a cheesy rom-com, laughing at the cringiest moments. Later, we went shopping, where Jess insisted I try on the most outrageous outfits just to make me laugh.

By the evening, as we walked back to my apartment, Jess turned to me. "Stella, why don’t you move back into my apartment? I miss having you there."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Jess, I already paid my rent for the next four months. Let’s stick to this arrangement for now. I’ll move back after that."

Jess nodded, understanding. She hugged me before saying goodbye.

---

Back in my apartment, I sat on my bed, checking my messages. Ava had texted me, scolding me about the chapter of my story I shared earlier. Her dramatic cursing made me laugh.

But my laughter faded as my phone started ringing. My heart froze when I saw the name.

Mom.

I stared at the screen, stunned. Oh, so they finally remembered they have a daughter after three years?

The call ended before I could gather my thoughts. A single tear slipped down my cheek.

Before I could process it, the phone rang again. This time, I answered. "Hello?" I said, my voice distant. I'm not used to calling her mom or anything.

My mother’s familiar but cold voice greeted me. "Stella, can you come visit us tomorrow?"

I hesitated. "Okay, I’ll try."

She cut me off sharply. "What do you mean, you’ll try? You’re probably lazing around at your friend’s house, wasting time writing those useless novels. You can write them here. Be here tomorrow."

Before I could respond, she hung up.

The tears came faster this time. She didn’t even ask how I was doing. Why are they like this?

I couldn’t blame another sibling for stealing their attention—there wasn’t one. I was their only child, yet they only ever cared about themselves.

The fleeting happiness of the day vanished completely.

Wiping my tears, I packed a small bag with an extra outfit. The train journey to my parents’ house would take 8–9 hours, and I couldn’t afford a flight.

I booked a train ticket for tonight after 4-5 hours and tried to sleep, though my thoughts were restless.

I just hope they hurt me less this time.

With a heavy heart, I closed my eyes, bracing myself for whatever the next day would bring.

---

My alarm rang sharply at 11 PM, jolting me awake. I got up, dressed in 30 minutes, grabbed something quick to eat for dinner, and headed out. The cool night air hit my face as I boarded the train. Sitting by the window, I stared out into the darkness, my thoughts spiraling. What’s coming next?

The train reached the station at 8 AM sharp. As I expected, no one came to pick me up. Not even a single message. Letting out a bitter laugh, I grabbed a cab and gave the driver the address.

When we pulled up to the apartment, I felt... nothing. No nostalgia, no longing. Just an empty, hollow feeling. I just want to run away. But maybe... just maybe, they’ll be good to me this time.

I stood outside the building for a moment, staring at it. This was the place I grew up in, but it didn’t feel like home. It never did. A tear rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly, swallowing the lump in my throat, and rang the doorbell.

The door opened after a minute, revealing my dad. He stood there in his 50s, wearing his usual outfit with spectacles perched on his nose. His expression was neutral, as always.

"Come in," he said simply, patting my head awkwardly.

I stepped inside, looking around. The air felt heavy. I will be honest , even Christian’s house didn’t feel this distant and strange.

"I’m here." I called out.

After a few moments, Mom appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She glanced at me briefly.

"Hello, Stella," she said flatly, as if addressing a stranger. "I bought you a dress. Wear it. Guests are coming."

I wanted to ask, Who? Why? But I decided against it. Maybe if I stayed quiet and obedient, they’d talk to me. Maybe they’d acknowledge me. Afterall I'm hearing her voice after 3 years.

I nodded silently and headed to her room to get ready.

Let me tell you something funny—I don’t even have a room in my parents’ apartment. The room I used to have is now store room.  It’s a cruel kind of irony.

The dress Mom gave me was beautiful—a black, knee-length dress with chiffon sleeves. It hugged my body perfectly. At least I’m getting dressed nicely these days, I thought with a wry smile.

After I changed, Mom handed me a pair of black heels. They matched the dress perfectly. She came closer, fixing my hair with her fingers, the gesture stiff yet oddly comforting.

"Stella," she said firmly, her tone low but commanding, "Behave properly in front of the guests. And talk less. I repeat—talk less."

I nodded again. Her voice—so unfamiliar after three years—was sharp, but at least she was talking to me. I’d take it, no matter how small. Deep down, I wanted this to make her happy. I don’t give a damn about them, I told myself. But it was a lie.

I wanted them to care. To see me. To love me.

After 10-15 minutes, the guests arrived. A woman, one of Mom’s friends, walked in with a boy about my age. I stood up and greeted them politely.

The woman smiled warmly at me. "Oh, Stella, you’ve grown into such a lovely young lady. It’s been so long since I last saw you."

"Thank you," I said softly, keeping my tone polite and measured.

The boy, who I assumed was her son Gabriel looked at me curiously but didn’t say much at first.

We all sat in the living room. Mom started chatting with her friend, mostly ignoring me, but occasionally glancing in my direction as if to remind me to keep quiet.

"So, Stella," Gabriel finally spoke, breaking the silence, "What do you do?"

I hesitated, unsure how to answer. Before I could speak, Mom interjected.

"She’s just figuring things out," Mom said quickly, waving her hand dismissively. "She writes, but it’s nothing serious."

I felt a pang of hurt but forced a smile. "I’m working on a novel," I said, trying to sound confident.

"A novel?" Gabriel asked, his interest piqued. "What’s it about?"

Before I could respond, Mom cut in again. "Oh, it’s just something she does to pass time. You know how these things are."

Her words stung, but I swallowed my pride and stayed quiet.

Gabriel didn’t seem deterred, though. "That’s actually pretty cool. I’ve always thought writing takes a lot of imagination. You must be good at it."

His kind words caught me off guard. "Thank you," I murmured, genuinely touched.

The conversation continued, but I kept my responses short, following Mom’s instructions. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being invisible, even with everyone sitting right there.

...

After the guests left, my mom looked at me and said,"You could have been more quiet. Also I want you to date Gabriel , he have a steady income and works in a MNC. I'll talk with my friend to arrange the date. Gabriel lives in NYC also."

I just nodded. What more could I have  said.

So this is what they called me for after  years. Such a selfish act.

Despite everything, a small part of me still longed for them to see me as their daughter, not just an unwanted presence an unwanted child.

I sighed, wiping away a stray tear. Tomorrow was another day, and I could only hope it would hurt a little less. No, I'm going back tonight.

With this thought I took my things and waved them BYE. They didn't even told me to stay.