Chapter 6

Rowan still took Stella to the hospital. There was no ulterior motive; he simply wanted to ascertain if she had any underlying mental health issues.

Once in the car, he allowed her to sit, but when she tried to lean against him, he coldly instructed, "Sit properly."

Stella pouted. "Don't you like holding me, Rowan?" She sensed an unusual distance from him.

Rowan leaned back in his seat and casually inquired, "Were you always this clingy with Randy?" He mused internally, She couldn't articulate herself properly, just always acting cute. It was as if she lacked a backbone, constantly clinging to people.

Stella furrowed her brows and muttered under her breath, "Why do you keep bringing him up?" She wondered if she hadn't already proven enough.

Rowan simply turned his gaze out the window, uninterested in responding. Did she really forget how many years she had liked Randy? he pondered.

At the hospital, Rowan arranged for a comprehensive check-up for Stella, including a psychiatric evaluation. Stella remained silent. If getting checked would ease his mind, then so be it.

The other examinations proceeded smoothly, but during the psychiatric evaluation, the doctor posed numerous questions. She struggled to answer most of them. Only when the doctor mentioned Rowan did her eyes brighten.

Following the evaluation, the doctor wore a complex expression. He scribbled a few words on the diagnosis report and handed it to Rowan, who was waiting outside.

With a somewhat awkward smile, the doctor placed the report on Rowan's chest. "Don't worry, she's mentally fine. It's just a minor issue—nothing major."

Stella followed the doctor and only then realized that he and Rowan knew each other. His name was Conner Pierce. He smiled at her before turning to Rowan and saying, "I have other matters to attend to, so feel free to take it from here."

Stella thanked him and waited until he turned back towards his office before approaching Rowan. With an innocent look, she asked, "What did the doctor say?"

Rowan glanced at the diagnosis with a complicated expression. He frowned and handed her the report. "You can read it yourself."

Stella took it and immediately noticed the diagnosis at the bottom: "Love- struck syndrome." She was confused.

Given what Conner had just told Rowan, it was clear—she was perfectly sane but merely a little love-struck.

Stella nodded and smiled sweetly. "This doctor seems quite professional." His emotions grew more intricate and confused.

After a thorough head-to-toe examination, Stella's physical health was confirmed. That was the crux of the problem. If she was feigning affection to get close to him, her objective remained unclear. If it wasn't Randy, nothing else seemed to explain why she would disregard her dislike for him and approach him so openly. If she wasn't pretending, it was almost unbelievable that someone could change so drastically in a single day.

Rowan couldn't resist reaching out and gently stroking Stella's head, trying to detect any bump. "Did the elevator door hit your head this morning?" he asked.

Stella stared at him silently. He could be even more sarcastic if he tried, she thought.

She sighed and looked up at him with a hint of frustration. "Why is it so hard for you to believe I like you?"

Rowan withdrew his hand, straightening up as his gaze locked with hers. His voice was low and steady. "You tell me, if the roles were reversed, would you believe it?" He hadn't believed her either when he once confessed his feelings for her.

Stella parted her lips slightly, then answered honestly, "I've liked you for a long time. It didn't just start today."

Rowan's brows furrowed slightly, perplexed by her choice of words.

"I just didn't dare to before."

"Too many handsome men like you. And you were always hostile towards me. There was always a barrier shutting me out."

Rowan glanced at his watch. "Talking about the past doesn't make it sound like you're trying to address the real issue."

He always had to be so aggressive, she thought. She was being serious about her feelings this time.

Rowan didn't respond. He tensed his jaw, then turned and walked away.

Stella frowned, watching him retreat without moving. After he had walked about twenty feet, she called out, "Rowan."

He stopped and paused for a few seconds before turning his head.

She looked at him with big, pitiful eyes. "My legs hurt. I can't walk. Carry me." She sounded all sweet and delicate, but her tone was commanding. Rowan instantly recognized her "princess syndrome" acting up.

Rowan scoffed and looked away. "If you can't walk, then don't. Whoever wants to carry you, let them." It wasn't going to be him. He spun around and continued walking.

Stella didn't follow. She remained there, her lips pressed tightly together.

Rowan made it another thirty feet before stopping just short of the elevator. He closed his eyes, hissed through his teeth, and muttered under his breath, "Screw it." Then, he turned around and stormed back.

Without a word, he reached her, bent down, and effortlessly scooped her up into his arms. His jaw clenched tight as he muttered near her ear, "Stella, I must've owed you something in my last life."

Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. His scent, sharp and dominant, enveloped her instantly. She smiled, completely unbothered by his gritted teeth or harsh tone.

She clung tightly to his neck, leaning in close to his cheek. She gently pressed a soft kiss to his face before whispering, "No, it's me who owes you, Rowan." Stella's soft lips brushed against his cheek, and her warm breath lingered near him.

Rowan snorted coldly as he carried her towards the elevator. "If you owe me, shouldn't you be the one carrying me? Have you ever seen someone flaunting their debt in front of the person they owe?"

Stella replied earnestly, "Normally, creditors have a hard time collecting debts. The bigger the debt, the harder it is to collect. So, the creditor needs to pamper the debtor and keep them company for the debt to be repaid over time."

Rowan scoffed lightly. Her logic was twisted, yet it held a strange kind of sense. Then, Stella leaned closer to his ear and whispered, "The debt I owe you is huge, Rowan. So, you'll have to pamper me, stay with me forever, and give me a lifetime to pay it back. Is that okay?"

"A lifetime?" Rowan thought, his gaze instantly darkening. He carried her into the elevator, lowering his eyes and staring intently at her. "Stella, do you know what a lifetime really means?"

Stella's eyes sparkled as she looked at him, answering each word clearly, "A lifetime means never leaving someone and never abandoning someone, no matter what."

Rowan and Stella now lived in the same neighborhood, in the same building. He was upstairs, and she was downstairs. After Stella was kicked out of the Fairchild residence and had nowhere else to go, Erin had helped her rent the place. Later, Stella discovered the apartment belonged to Rowan. He had secretly arranged for it to be rented to Erin at a low price.

Rowan carried Stella back to her place. Although she continued to pout, she asked, "Can't I just stay at your place?"

He gave her a look, his expression impassive. "Stella, be a little more dignified."

"Okay," she replied obediently, leading him inside. However, she kept glancing back with a reluctant expression, clearly not wanting to leave him.

Rowan's eyelid twitched, but he crossed his arms, leaning against the elevator wall. His face remained expressionless and unmoving.

He walked Stella to her apartment door. Knowing she would invite him over, he sighed inwardly. She reluctantly entered her apartment.

Rowan let out a long breath, the tension in his face easing. He rubbed his stiff cheeks. A brief smile tugged at the corner of his lips before he quickly masked it. The complicated reality was that he didn't know how to face Stella.

A lifetime means never leaving someone, echoed the doctor's words in the hospital elevator. The immense restraint he had used just to bring her back to her place without giving in to the urge to do something else... Because he didn't know what he would do if he let his desires take over, only for her to later tell him it was all just a game.

Rowan looked at the door to Stella's apartment one last time before turning and heading upstairs.

Rowan stepped into the bathroom and turned on the cold water. He let it cascade over him, hoping it would cool the raging emotions inside and help clear his head. But it did little to ease the turmoil. His emotions remained restless, and her face kept flashing in his mind—her eyes, full of tenderness, looking at him. He could still feel the intimate touch when she leaned in and kissed him with her soft, red lips.

Leaning against the cold tile wall, he tilted his head back, taking slow, deep breaths. His Adam's apple bobbed with each inhale. Water droplets ran down his hair, his face, and along the veins that stood out on his neck.

"Stella," he whispered, his voice hushed and raspy, mixing with the sound of the water.

Just then, Rowan felt a sharp, painful sensation across the back of his hand. It was as though something had scratched him deeply. His emotions immediately cooled.

Furrowing his brows, he opened his eyes and raised his hand. There was no mark, nothing at all. But the lingering pain remained, real and undeniable.

Rowan frowned and turned off the water, casually threw on a bathrobe, and stepped out of the bathroom. He sat on the couch, lifting his hand to examine the back. The pain had dulled, but it hadn't completely gone away.

He squinted as he recalled that strange feeling—it was reminiscent of being scratched by something with sharp claws.

He sat still for a moment, leaning back into the couch. Rowan closed his eyes, trying to calm his emotions, until the sound of the doorbell rang.

Straightening up, he glanced toward the door and saw her familiar, mischievous face on the video screen.

"Really?" Rowan muttered, rubbing his temples in frustration. This woman. Couldn't she just leave me alone for a moment? Then, a small, self- deprecating smile tugged at his lips. He couldn't deny that he was secretly hoping she would show up.

Rowan stood up, opened the door, and leaned against the doorframe. With his arms crossed, he looked down at the girl in front of him, his tone tinged with resignation. "Stella, do you know what time it is?"

Stella was still wearing that lovely pink tulle dress, and he wondered what on earth she had been doing all this time. Standing before him, she heard his words and immediately stretched her hand toward him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She pouted, acting all injured. "But my hand got scratched by Felix, and it really hurts."