The Ex-Wife's Burning Elegance

Mr. Burton let out a heavy sigh. "Alright."

Strictly speaking, the news about Stella shouldn't be told to her first—it should go

to her family. But in the room, everyone present was a friend. As for Haynes...

well, he was more of an ex-husband now, hardly family anymore.

To keep it from Stella, in front of all her friends, felt almost disrespectful. He

sighed again. "Alright," he said.

If Mr. Burton said he could save someone, he could. If he said there was no hope,

then there really was none.

He turned to Stella, his voice gentle but grave. "Stella, the best I can promise is

that your hands will look normal again—the bones will set properly, and you

shouldn't feel pain when it rains. In your daily life, no one will even notice

anything's wrong. You'll be able to work and live as usual. But..."

He paused, exhaling deeply, the weight of it all clear on his face.

"Your fingers won't be as nimble as they once were. Playing music will be very

difficult. Even painting will be affected. Especially... your left hand."

Stella had smashed her own right hand—she'd stopped short of destroying it

herself at least some use. But her left

Leonard himself. The damage was so severe it

If it hadn't been for Mr. Burton

been left with permanent,

falling again. Star was so

the celebrated violinist,

than the legendary Nora had been in her prime. Stella

lifelong passion—had been

worse than death.

instinctively

her face pale, but she managed to keep her

Burton. "Thank you,

her with deep regret. Such

better," he said at

can operate first thing in

surgery like Stella's

planning and

preparation. Tomorrow morning

was the earliest possible.

Mr. Burton left the room, unable to bear staying

gone, Stella turned to Haynes and the

and me a

They quietly filed out.

the bed,

don't blame

gently.

fault. If we need to

it should be the