Chapter 1238 The Spark of Emotion
That night, Stella dreamed of a wedding.
The scene unfolded like something from a fairy tale—Charles and Hannah's ceremony in a chapel filled with guests, the air thick with the perfume of white roses and the soft murmur of anticipation. A veiled bride walked down the aisle, her left arm linked through Carter Moore's, her right hand clutching a cascade of peonies, moving with measured grace toward the altar.
Carter placed the bride's hand into the groom's waiting palm. Throughout the procession, the bride kept her head demurely lowered, her smile radiant beneath the lace veil, her cheeks flushed rose-pink with happiness.
After the officiant's lengthy recitation, the groom lifted the veil with reverent hands.
The bride raised her eyes shyly—and gasped.
The groom's black tuxedo had somehow transformed into crisp white, complete with a snow-white shirt and crimson tie.
"Randy?"
The word escaped her lips like a prayer. Suddenly aware of the impossibility, she dropped her bouquet and pressed both hands to her cheeks, turning frantically toward her maid of honor.
The face that had been Stella's was now Hannah's. The best man who had been Randy was now Charles.
The bride's knees buckled as she stumbled backward. "What's happening? How is this possible?"
Randy stepped forward and caught her hands, his voice gentle as velvet. "Stella, what's wrong? Today is our wedding day."
The bride stared at him in bewilderment, her mind reeling. "Our wedding? But isn't this supposed to be Hannah and Charles's ceremony?"
Randy tapped her forehead playfully. "Don't be silly. This is obviously our wedding."
"We're getting married?"
Stella's eyes widened in disbelief as she scanned the congregation. The entire assembly was filled with people she'd known her whole life.
She looked back at Randy, then at Charles and Hannah standing where the wedding party should be.
She thought, 'How could this be happening? This was supposed to be Hannah and Charles's day. How had it become hers and Randy's? They couldn't possibly marry—they were cousins!'
Panic seized her, and she turned to flee. But as soon as she took a step, the world began to spin violently. Faces blurred into a kaleidoscope of color, the chapel tilted sideways, and suddenly she was falling—
Stella jolted upright in bed, her nightgown damp with perspiration, her chest heaving as she gulped air like a drowning woman. She pressed a trembling hand to her racing heart.
"Just a dream," she whispered, relief flooding through her. "Thank God, it was only a dream."
But then the full implications hit her, and her eyes flew wide with horror.
*Why would I dream about marrying Randy? Have I lost my mind?*
She scrambled for rational explanations, muttering frantically to herself. "It's because Hannah's getting married—I'm just envious, that's all. You know what they say about dreams reflecting our daily thoughts. And since Randy and Charles are identical twins, and I spend so much time with Randy, my subconscious just... substituted him. That's all. Perfectly logical."
Desperate to clear her head, Stella stumbled barefoot to the bathroom and splashed ice-cold water on her face. The shock helped restore some clarity, and she stared at her dripping reflection in the mirror.
"Stella," she said sternly to her reflection, "he's your cousin. You can fantasize about anyone else in the world, but not him. If anyone found out, you'd be ostracized. This is practically incest."
Water droplets traced paths down her cheeks and soaked into her silk pajamas.
"My boyfriend is Emeric," she continued, her voice gaining strength. "I should be dreaming about Emeric."
The reminder seemed to anchor her, and she nodded vigorously. "Yes! Emeric is my boyfriend. He's the one I should be thinking about."
She hurried back to her room and grabbed her phone. Three AM—which meant it was ten in the morning in Country D, thanks to the seven-hour time difference.
Opening Emeric's contact, she realized with a start that their last exchange had been before she'd left for Sunset Bay. Since arriving, she'd been so consumed with Hannah's wedding preparations and Randy's company that she'd completely forgotten about her supposed boyfriend.
'What kind of girlfriend am I?' she wondered.
She typed quickly: [Hey babe, working today? Haven't talked in days—I miss you.]
The message provided some comfort, making her feel more grounded in reality. But hours passed with no response, and eventually she fell asleep with the phone still clutched in her hand.
When Stella woke the next morning, her first instinct was to check her messages. The phone's facial recognition unlocked automatically, revealing Emeric's chat thread.
He'd finally responded three hours after her message: [Yeah, tutoring tonight.]
That was it. No warmth, no reciprocated affection—just a perfunctory acknowledgment that felt more like a business transaction than communication between lovers.
But Stella had recovered from the previous night's panic, and Emeric's coldness barely registered. She checked the time—already ten o'clock—then scrolled to Randy's messages from nine AM.
Randy: [I'm helping Charles and Hannah finalize the wedding video content today. If you're bored, you could visit Fannie and Maria at Sunshine Manor.]
Randy: [Don't wander around the city alone—you don't know Sunset Bay well, and if something happened while I wasn't there to help, I'd never forgive myself.]
Randy: [If you get really restless and don't want to visit the others, just call me. Whatever you do, don't go exploring by yourself.]
Each message radiated genuine concern and care, forming a stark contrast to Emeric's indifferent response. Stella's lips curved into an involuntary smile, and the very air around her seemed to shimmer with sweetness.
She read Randy's messages over and over, savoring every word, before finally typing back: [I'm awake.]
Three simple words that conveyed everything—that she'd seen his messages, that she was indeed bored, and that she was waiting for his guidance.
Within seconds, her phone rang. Seeing Randy's name on the screen sent an unexpected flutter through her chest, and her hands trembled slightly as she answered.
"Hello?" Her voice came out husky with sleep.
"How did you sleep?" Randy's warm tone flowed through the speaker like honey.
Stella's breath caught, and she rolled onto her stomach, clutching the phone with one hand while nervously twisting her hair with the other.
"I had a strange dream early on that kept me up, but I slept well after that."
"What kind of dream?" Randy asked with casual interest.
"Oh, um..." Stella's cheeks burned. She could hardly confess to dreaming about their wedding. "Where are you now? Are you busy?"
Randy caught the hint in her deflection and chuckled. "I'm at the wedding planning office. Would you like to come over?"
Stella's eyes lit up immediately. "Yes! I'm dying of boredom here."
Randy knew her so well—he could read between the lines of everything she didn't say.
"Perfect," he said with obvious affection. "Get ready and be downstairs in ten minutes. I'll have the driver pick you up."
"Wonderful!"
After hanging up, Stella rifled through her wardrobe and selected a stunning red dress. While most people looked garish in such a bold color, Stella's striking features could carry it effortlessly. The crimson fabric transformed her into something magnificent—like a blooming peony that commanded attention wherever she went.
She twirled before the full-length mirror, admiring how the dress hugged her curves in all the right places. Her figure was enviably proportioned—full bust, tiny waist, curved hips—the classic hourglass silhouette that fashion magazines worshipped.
Satisfied with her reflection, Stella completed her look with subtle makeup that enhanced her natural beauty, then grabbed her purse and headed downstairs with a spring in her step.
Randy was waiting in the driver's seat when she emerged from the hotel, and the moment he caught sight of her, his eyes flashed with unmistakable admiration.
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