Stella shook her head and smiled softly, trying to appear unfazed.
“I’m used to it, really. Don’t worry about me. You should head home early too, so Neville doesn’t end up worried sick.”
Miley feigned indifference, tossing a lighthearted, “Humph, as if he’d care about me.”
Yet her actions betrayed her words-she was already heading toward the parking lot, a sweet smile Lingering on her face.
Stella watched Miley walk away, a quiet smile tugging at her lips.
Yet in that moment, her thoughts drifted to Matthew. She missed him terribly. If only Matthew hadn’t lost his memory. No matter how busy he had been, he would have always found a way to make time for her.
Gazing at the bustling crowd on the street and the silent screen of her phone, Stella felt a wave of sadness wash over her. How she longed for a message from him at this very moment.
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit bar, Neville and Cordell arrived in haste and entered a private room, their eyes immediately falling on the table cluttered with six empty bottles.
Matthew sat slumped in his chair, a glass in hand, his despondent expression a stark contrast to the lively hum of the bar. He drank as though trying to drown the weight of his troubles, while Fernando stood beside him, looking utterly helpless.
Fernando had called Neville and Cordell for help, and they had arrived as quickly as they could. Glancing at each other, they were both perplexed by Matthew’s behavior. Why was he drinking himself into oblivion?
Matthew swirled the empty glass in his hand, his tone flat as he said to Fernando, “Open another bottle.”
Fernando hesitated, visibly uneasy, unsure of what to do.
Cordell stepped forward, snatching the glass from Matthew’s hand.
“Are you trying to kill yourself? Do you even know what you’re doing?”
Matthew’s gaze, slightly unfocused, shifted to Cordell. His words slurred, but the defiance was clear. “Why are you here? I know what I’m doing. It’s just a drink-it won’t hurt.”
He waved at Fernando again, repeating the order. “Go get the wine.”
Neville stepped in, shooting Fernando a knowing look. “You can leave now.”
Relieved, Fernando nodded and quickly left the private room.
Matthew’s expression darkened as he reached for the wine again, only to have Cordell block him.
“Matthew,” Cordell said sharply, “you had a check-up today, and now you’re drinking like this? Are you seriously testing your luck? Don’t play games with your health.”
Neville tried to reassure Matthew, his voice gentle yet firm, “This isn’t the end of the world. Drinking your troubles away won’t patch things up. I’ve already made arrangements to search for the top specialist in this field. We’ll have you back to your old self before your birthday. Don’t let this storm cloud drown you.”
Matthew, however, only shook his head, muttering in a tone that suggested a deeper turmoil, “It’s not about that.”
Both Neville and Cordell were left puzzled, struggling to fathom what had pulled Matthew into this abyss of despair.
Neville, always quick to catch a hint, cautiously asked, “Is it something Lindsay did again?”