When Love Comes Late -
Chapter 781
Matthew considered her question, then responded, “It might be partly a matter of heredity.
”
Hearing this, Stella glanced at the pencil in her hand.
“If my parents were still alive, they would Likely be renowned designers.
”
Noticing that Stella seemed lost in her thoughts, Matthew, too, found himself drifting into contemplation.
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Unbeknownst to Stella, he had quietly conducted an investigation into her biological parents after learning she was an orphan.
Yet the inquiry at the orphanage yielded nothing substantial.
There was no way to investigate.
The absence of information heightened Matthew’s suspicion.
He began to suspect that someone had concealed her past deliberately.
Still, Matthew chose not to disclose these efforts to Stella so soon, fearing that any unsatisfactory outcome might bring her greater disappointment.
Gently stroking Stella’s head, Matthew offered softly, “Perhaps your parents are still out there.
Maybe they had to leave you due to unavoidable circumstances.
Don’t let it weigh too heavily on you.
”
Stella recognized his comforting intent and offered a grateful smile.
She tightened her grip on the pencil and sketched a few more Lines, whispering, “Allow me this small fantasy.
”
Matthew squinted slightly but chose not to continue the conversation.
He glanced at Stella’s emerging sketch and offered, “If you need help concerning Mia, don’t hesitate to ask.
”
“You should get some sleep,” Stella suggested.
Obligingly, Matthew rose and moved to the sofa.
He pulled the quilt over himself, lying down in a position that faced Stella, and closed his eyes.
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Stella watched him, a man more than six feet tall, curling up on a sofa not designed for his frame.
The sight of him in that intimate, curled posture inspired a sense of domesticity within her, and in that moment, her creative muse returned.
The following morning, Stella awoke to an overpowering aroma.
Having pulled an all-nighter, she was initially disoriented upon waking and wondered if she was still dreaming.
However, the acrid scent persisted, invading her nostrils as though something was smoldering.
Panic seized her.
With a jolt of realization, she leapt out of bed and dashed out of the bedroom.
She had only recently moved into this apartment, and her studio was filled with valuable materials.
A fire at this moment would unquestionably result in significant losses.
Upon exiting the room, she saw Matthew.
Clad in a whimsical apron, he was holding a plate filled with charred remnants.
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