She’s Done. He’s Breaking novel Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Stella found herself standing quietly behind Scott in the elevator, the air thick with unspoken tension. He was fully aware of who she was, but unlike Max, there was no flicker of disdain in his demeanor. Instead, he exuded an aura of calmness and restraint, embodying the qualities of a true gentleman. His presence was a stark contrast to the chaos that often surrounded her.

As they stepped out of the elevator, Stella felt her phone buzz insistently in her pocket. It was Jonathan calling.

“Hey, I just got out of the elevator,” she said into the phone, her voice barely above a whisper.

Without waiting for a response, she ended the call, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her.

By the time she reached the turnstile, she noticed that Scott had already walked away, his figure disappearing into the bustling crowd. But there, waiting for her with an eager expression, was Jonathan.

“Stella!” he exclaimed, rushing over to her side as if she were the only thing that mattered. He took her suitcase from her with a practiced ease and together they made their way toward her car.

Once outside the office building, Jonathan loaded her suitcase into his own vehicle, a gesture that felt both protective and familiar. He drove her home, the streets illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights, but the hour was late, and by the time they arrived, it was already past 12:30 am.

After a quick wash, Stella slipped into bed, the sheets cool against her skin.

The next three days passed in a blur of solitude. She remained at home, cocooned from the outside world. No one from the villa reached out to her, and she found it oddly liberating. It was as if her absence went unnoticed, a testament to how little she truly mattered in their lives.

The handover process had gone off without a hitch, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil she had faced before.

Each morning, Layla rose with the sun, preparing nutritious meals that slowly began to restore Stella’s health and spirit. With each bite, she could feel her complexion improving, her energy levels rising. The emotional scars that Yelena and Tristan had left behind were gradually beginning to mend under the gentle care of her family.

On Saturday, Layla suggested they visit a yoga studio she had discovered in the city center. Stella had been eyeing this particular studio online for quite some time, enchanted by its offerings. Although the fees were steep, the facilities were top-notch, and the instructors boasted impressive credentials. They even provided specialized one-on-one prenatal yoga training, which piqued Stella’s interest.

As Layla explained the details, Stella felt a rush of excitement. The only downside was the price tag—one-on-one sessions started at a hefty 800 dollars per class, and opting for a more experienced instructor would only drive the cost higher.

According to the staff, their private instructors primarily catered to affluent socialites and high-profile clients, some even offering in-home sessions for an even steeper fee.

Without hesitation, Layla booked a package for Stella—a one-month plan priced at around 30 thousand dollars, which was considered a mid-range option at the studio.

Stella had intended to cover the cost herself. After all, she had worked as Tristan’s assistant, earning an annual salary of about 100 thousand dollars, and still had some savings to fall back on.

However, Layla’s financial situation was more precarious. She had invested heavily in Jonathan’s startup, Evecore Technologies, which had yet to turn a profit. The remnants of her savings were dwindling, especially after Jonathan had contemplated selling his shares to pay off debts when Gary’s company collapsed. Stella couldn’t bear the thought of watching Jonathan’s hard work go to waste.

“We’re family, Stella. There’s no need for you to feel pressured about money. Your dad gave me some funds, so I can cover this,” Layla assured her.

In the end, Layla’s generosity won out, and she paid for the yoga classes.

Stella felt a warmth in her heart that words couldn’t quite capture. She silently vowed to herself that she would work hard and earn more in the future, to repay this kindness.

She chose a yoga instructor named Hailey Smith, a woman with eight years of experience in prenatal yoga coaching. At 35, Hailey exuded confidence and grace, and Stella felt an immediate connection.

Class times were set for each day, and as luck would have it, one of Hailey’s private students canceled that day, allowing her to coach Stella right away.

Layla waited patiently outside, giving Stella the space she needed to focus.

Having taken dance classes as a child, Stella discovered that she was still quite flexible. After two hours of intense practice, she emerged drenched in sweat, but exhilarated.

Perhaps it was just her imagination, but she felt more relaxed and invigorated than she had in days, a welcome change from the heaviness that had settled in her chest.

She showered at the yoga studio, changing into fresh clothes before stepping outside.

As she exited, a familiar voice reached her ears.

“Ms. York, you really give the rest of us no chance at all. With a figure like yours and that level of dedication, it’s no wonder the cold and aloof Mr. Somerton fell head over heels for you. With those curves, I bet you drive him crazy every night.”

“Watch what you’re saying. There are people around,” Stella replied, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Your face is turning red. Looks like we hit the mark. Come on, tell us. Is Tristan that good in bed? How many times do you do it at night?”

“Do we even need to ask? They probably go at least seven rounds.”

“Stop it, you guys,” Stella interjected, trying to suppress her laughter.

Before she could respond, a striking woman rushed toward him, calling out, “Tris.”

Tristan’s cold demeanor melted away in an instant, his eyes warming like sunlight breaking through a dreary autumn sky.

He stepped forward, effortlessly wrapping his arms around Audrey’s waist. She smiled sweetly, exchanging farewells with her friends before Tristan opened the passenger door for her, a gesture so natural it sent a pang of longing through Stella.

He closed the door with a finality that echoed in the still night air, walking around the car to slide into the driver’s seat. As the car pulled away, Stella felt a wave of despair wash over her.

Even as Layla watched Tristan with another woman, there was a silence that hung between them, thick with unspoken words. He had clearly seen them, yet his expression remained indifferent, as if they were mere strangers in a crowded room.

They owed the Somertons, and someone like Tristan was the last person they could afford to offend.

Turning to Stella, Layla noticed the color drain from her face, her eyes filled with concern.

“Stelle!” she exclaimed, reaching out to her.

Stella forced a smile, though it felt more like a mask than a reflection of her true feelings. “I’m alright, Layla. Let’s go home!”

“Alright, let’s head back,” Layla agreed, though her voice was laced with uncertainty.

Just then, Stella’s phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking the tension.

She answered the call. “Professor Jenkins,” she said, her tone shifting to one of professionalism.

“Do you have some time tonight? Professor Mikelson from Brookfield University is in Justicia for an academic exchange. He’ll be your instructor in the future. I arranged a meeting, and I’d like to introduce you to him,” came the voice on the other end.

In an instant, the heavy weight on her shoulders began to lift. “I do. When and where are we meeting?” she asked, her spirits rising.

“I’ll send you the location,” the professor replied.

“Alright,” Stella said, a smile breaking through her earlier gloom.