Chapter 1248 A Nosebleed at the Sight of Male Beauty
Seeing Randy stare at her blankly, Stella pushed the pills closer to him with gentle insistence. "Come on, take them! Your headache will be gone once you do."
Randy sighed inwardly, resigned to his fate as he reached out and accepted the pills from her hand. He placed them on his tongue, took a sip of water, and tilted his head back to swallow them down.
The truth was, he hadn't been drunk last night at all. By the time he'd returned home this morning, any trace of alcohol had long since left his system. But witnessing her genuine concern for his wellbeing, he couldn't bring himself to refuse her kindness.
From yesterday until now, he'd been desperately trying to convince himself that he'd made the right decision—to bury his feelings deep and keep them hidden. Yet here he was, crumbling like a house of cards the moment Stella showed him the slightest tenderness.
After he swallowed the medication, Stella thoughtfully collected the water glass and gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. "Get some rest now. I'm heading back to the hotel. Text me when you wake up, okay?"
"Alright," Randy murmured softly, settling back against his pillows.
"Sleep well!" she called out cheerfully, taking the glass with her as she left the room.
Randy stared at the closed door, his emotions a tangled mess of conflicting feelings he couldn't begin to untangle.
Meanwhile, instead of returning to her hotel as promised, Stella found herself wandering downstairs to the living room. She settled onto the couch with her phone, mindlessly flipping between television channels and social media, her attention divided and restless.
Every few minutes, she'd glance toward the staircase, hoping to catch sight of Randy making his way down. But the hours stretched on, and he never appeared.
The short videos that usually captivated her felt hollow and meaningless now. She scrolled through them mechanically, absorbing nothing, her mind elsewhere entirely.
When her phone chimed with a new message notification, her heart leaped with anticipation. Thinking Randy had finally woken up, she quickly exited the video app and opened Facebook, her face lighting up with excitement.
But when she saw Emeric's name instead, her expression fell like a stone dropping into still water.
Stella glanced at the time—2 PM. With the seven-hour time difference between Country D and Country Z, it would be 9 PM there. Emeric had probably just returned to his dorm and finally had a moment to reach out. Remarkably, this was the first time he'd ever initiated contact with her.
She opened his message: [What are you up to?]
With nothing better to occupy her time, Stella decided to respond.
Stella: [Just watching TV.]
Emeric: [Not out exploring?]
Stella: [No, everyone went shopping with Hannah and left me here by myself.]
Emeric: [When's the wedding?]
Stella: [Three days from now.]
Stella rolled her eyes, sensing the conversation was heading toward a dead end. Hoping to inject some life into their exchange, she texted: [Since she's my best friend and she's marrying my cousin, I came a week early.]
Emeric: [I see.]
The conversation died with Emeric's perfunctory response, leaving Stella puzzled by his sudden silence. Rather than chase after more small talk, she returned to her videos.
Minutes later, another message appeared: [Did you mention the apprenticeship to Randy? What did he say? Did he agree?]
There it was—the real reason behind his sudden interest in chatting. Stella felt a familiar pang of disappointment, though she'd learned not to expect much from him by now.
Stella: [Sorry, Randy's been swamped lately. I haven't found the right moment to bring it up. I'll talk to him after Hannah's wedding.]
Emeric: [Great! I'll be waiting for good news.]
And just like that, he was gone again.
Stella sent back a lackluster "okay" and closed the chat, glancing once more toward the stairs. Randy still hadn't emerged, and Hannah's shopping expedition showed no signs of ending. Apart from the household staff, she was utterly alone.
Her stomach chose that moment to voice its protest with an unmistakable growl. She realized she hadn't eaten anything since morning—no wonder her body was staging a rebellion.
Stella rubbed her empty stomach pitifully, torn between her hunger and her desire to wait for Randy to join her for a meal. She'd been camped out in the living room for two hours already. How much rest could one person possibly need?
Maybe she should check on him? What if something was wrong?
After an internal battle between reason and impulse, impulse won. She crept back upstairs and gently pushed open Randy's door.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the empty room. The heavy curtains had been drawn back, leaving only sheer white panels to filter the afternoon light. The bed was vacant.
Assuming Randy had slipped out while she was distracted, Stella quickly dialed his number.
A melodic ringtone echoed from somewhere within the room, followed by the sound of the bathroom door opening. Randy emerged with dripping hair, moving unhurriedly toward his phone before spotting Stella standing there with her device pressed to her ear.
"You're calling me?" he asked, putting the pieces together.
Stella's mouth went dry as she stammered, "I didn't see you anywhere and thought—thought maybe you'd snuck out while I wasn't paying attention."
But her words trailed off as her gaze was drawn to Randy's appearance. He'd thrown on a bathrobe in his haste, the belt loosely tied around his waist. His bronze skin gleamed with moisture, water droplets tracing paths down his sculpted torso, radiating an intoxicating masculine energy.
His physique was perfection itself—not overly muscled, but lean and powerful in all the right places. Fresh from his shower, he carried an intoxicating blend of clean skin and expensive body wash that made Stella's head spin.
She felt a sudden warmth in her nose, followed by a telltale trickle.
Randy's eyes widened in alarm as he grabbed tissues from the nightstand, pressing them against her nose. "What's wrong? Why are you bleeding?"
"What?" Stella snapped back to reality, tilting her head back instinctively. "I'm bleeding?"
Randy guided her to sit on the bed, his voice tight with concern. "Keep pressure on it. I'll get a cold compress—my mother always said cold towels on the back of the neck help stop nosebleeds."
"Okay," Stella managed, accepting the tissues with trembling hands.
Randy disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a cold, damp towel that he folded carefully before placing it against the nape of her neck.
Stella didn't dare move, maintaining firm pressure on her nose while avoiding all eye contact.
Randy settled beside her, genuinely puzzled. "How does someone just spontaneously start bleeding like that? Are you feeling sick?"
Stella barely dared to breathe, her eyes darting everywhere except toward him. If Randy ever discovered that she'd gotten a nosebleed from simply looking at his half-naked body, she'd never live it down the humiliation.
At that point, she might as well just disappear from the face of the earth entirely. She'd never done anything so mortifying in her entire life—getting a nosebleed from checking out a guy. The shame was absolutely unbearable.
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