Chapter 1224 Randy is Angry
Randy sat motionless on the living room sofa, his expression unreadable.
They had been living in Charles's villa in the southern district for ten days now. When Charles and Hannah moved in, Stella and Randy had followed suit. Hannah had thoughtfully gifted Stella a piano and dedicated an entire room for her practice sessions.
Every evening, Stella maintained a strict two-hour practice schedule—typically from eight to ten, sometimes seven to nine if she started early. The only rule was that practice must begin no later than eight o'clock, a routine Stella had faithfully observed until recently.
Tonight, after Hannah had driven Emeric back to his university dormitory—a round trip that took an hour plus additional time—it was already half past eleven. Randy had been waiting in the living room since practice ended, and for the first time, his patience was wearing dangerously thin.
"What exactly are your intentions with the piano?" he asked as she settled beside him.
Stella tilted her head with characteristic defiance. "My goals haven't changed! I know I'm a late starter, but it's never too late to pursue excellence. I may never reach your level, but I want to leave my mark—to have people think of my name when they hear the word 'piano.'"
Randy's laugh held no warmth, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. "Two hours of daily practice—already reduced from the four hours someone of your inexperience should be logging. But since Emeric arrived, you've barely managed one hour. A single piece runs four minutes; accounting for mistakes and my instruction time, you're getting perhaps twelve to thirteen repetitions per hour. These past five days, you've practiced each piece a mere four or five times daily. At this rate, when exactly do you expect to see improvement?"
For once, Stella—usually quick with a retort—found herself speechless.
Randy's expression darkened, and the man who had never spoken harshly to her delivered his first real rebuke. "I know you have the attention span of a goldfish, and piano is the longest you've stuck with anything. I also know you entered this field because of me, not from genuine passion. If you've lost interest or the novelty has worn off, just say so. Let's not waste each other's time forcing you to face something you've grown to resent."
Panic flashed across Stella's features. "No, that's not it! I do love it—I love piano! I used to drift through life without knowing what I wanted, but I'm certain about this!"
Randy's stony expression remained unchanged. This was the first time Stella had seen him truly angry. In her mind, Randy was the gentle one—despite sharing Charles's identical features, while Charles intimidated her to her core, Randy had always been her safe harbor. She had grown accustomed to his indulgence, perhaps even taking advantage of his affection.
"Randy, what's wrong? Why are you so upset?" The sight of his anger reminded her too much of Charles, sending an unfamiliar chill through her.
"I'm giving you one week," he said, rising from the sofa. "Think carefully about whether this is what you truly want. If not, we end this charade here and now."
He headed upstairs without another word, leaving Stella staring after him in bewilderment. When she tried to follow, she found his door firmly closed against her.
That night, sleep eluded Stella completely. She tossed and turned, her mind racing with questions. Why was Randy angry? Hadn't he always cherished her above all else? Why this sudden coldness? Had she somehow lost his affection?
As dawn broke and exhaustion finally began to claim her, the sound of a door opening jolted her awake. Their rooms faced each other on the third floor, and in the morning stillness, every sound carried with crystal clarity.
Sleep forgotten, Stella bolted upright and rushed barefoot to her door, flinging it open just as Randy emerged from his room—suitcase in hand.
"Randy," she whispered, her hair disheveled, eyes wide with dismay. "You're leaving?"
"Yes. I have a ten o'clock flight to Sunset Bay," he replied without emotion.
Her voice cracked like a child's. "You're abandoning me?"
The wounded tone that might have melted him before left Randy unmoved. He didn't even meet her gaze. "I'll spend this week in Sunset Bay. You need space to think clearly, and my presence would only cloud your judgment."
He turned toward the stairs, but Stella's panic overrode all rational thought. Her feet moved before her mind could catch up, and she caught his arm from behind.
"Please don't go! What will I do without you? You promised you'd always be here for me."
Randy didn't turn around. "Don't you have Emeric now? Are you certain you still need me?"
"Yes!" she cried without hesitation. "I need you!"
A bitter smile twisted Randy's lips as he faced her, gently but firmly removing her hand from his arm. "Don't answer so quickly. I meant what I said about giving you a week."
He took a few steps, then paused, adding quietly, "Follow your heart, Stella. Don't force yourself into something out of obligation. Even if you choose a different path, you'll always be my cousin—that will never change."
With that, he descended the stairs, leaving Stella alone at the landing, a terrible certainty settling in her chest: if she made the wrong choice now, she would regret it for the rest of her life. And Randy would become nothing more than her cousin—never again the man who had made her world feel safe and full of possibility.
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