Chapter 20: Understand.

Ignoring each other, neither of them slept in the bedroom. Dua slept in the living room, while Steven spent the night in his study, unable to sleep though because of his insomnia. Dua went to the bedroom and met Steven knotting his tie. They ignored each other and Dua proceeded into the bathroom. Coming out all dressed up too, she didn't meet him there again. She went to the kitchen and only greeted Shane with a smile and settled at the table.

Steven served out two portions of food and placed one before Shane and the other one before himself.

"Where is mine?" Dua asked and Steven was quiet.

"You can have mine." Shane offered her his food to avoid their upcoming quarrel, but she declined him with a smile.

She stood up from her seat and the men thought she was leaving the kitchen, but there was nothing like that in her agenda. She walked to Steven and took his food but he held her hand before she could completely take it. She dropped the food, went back to her seat, picked up her cutlery and went back to him. She pulled out a chair and sat beside Steven and began to eat his food. Steven scoffed while she shrugged and Shane laughed.

"What are you doing?" Steven asked her.

"Having breakfast," she replied, stuffing the food into her mouth.

"Aren't you no longer mad at me?" He asked.

"I still am," she replied.

"And you're eating my food?" He raised a brow.

"I'm mad at you, not the food," she replied and Shane tried to stipple his laughter.

Steven scoffed and left the table and she gladly moved the food to herself. "Oh, thank you," she sang and continued with the food.

Shane excused himself from the table and went to Steven's study.

"There's no use quarrelling with her, she's not bothered by you." Shane said.

"I'm not bothered by her either." Steven replied, packing up his things.

"She's a nice person, just get to understand her." Shane said.

"Nice?" Steven scoffed. "Nice my ass."

Shane sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're not making this easy, Steve."

Steven raised an eyebrow. "I'm not supposed to make it easy. She's the one who's supposed to adjust."

Shane shook his head. "You're not listening to me, Steve. Your wife is not like other women. She's...different."

Steven snorted. "Different? That's one way to put it."

Shane's expression turned serious. "Steven, I'm trying to help you here. You need to understand that your wife is not going to back down. She's going to keep pushing your buttons until you either explode or learn to deal with her."

Steven's eyes narrowed. "And what makes you think I need your help?"

Shane shrugged. "Because I've seen the way you look at her, Steven. You're fascinated by her, despite yourself. And I think that's a good thing."

Steven's expression turned skeptical. "What are you talking about?"

Shane leaned forward. "I'm talking about the fact that you're not used to being around someone who doesn't fawn all over you. Your wife doesn't care about your money or your status. She's not impressed by you, Steven. And that's what's driving you crazy."

Steven's eyes flashed with anger, but Shane continued. "You need to learn to deal with someone who doesn't worship you, Steven. And I think your wife is the perfect person to teach you that."

"Would you fucking stop calling her my wife?" Steven felt agitated each time Shane said 'your wife.'

"Isn't she your wife?" Shane asked.

"You don't have to spell it out to me everytime." Steven replied.

"But it doesn't change the fact that you married her at the altar." Shane said causing Steven's face to darken a bit.

"Just a little more time and I'll get her over with. That she-devil can never be my wife." Steven replied.

"Whatever. Just try to understand her, so you can both live peacefully." Shane said.

Steven's expression turned thoughtful, and for a moment, Shane thought he saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. But then, Steven's mask slipped back into place, and he stood up, his expression cold.

"I don't need your advice, Shane," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "I can handle that she-devil just fine on my own."

Shane sighed, shaking his head. "Suit yourself, Steven. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Steven turned and walked out of the study, leaving Shane to wonder if he had just made things worse.

Meanwhile, Dua was still eating her breakfast, a look of satisfaction on her face. She had won this small battle, and she felt triumphant. But as she finished her meal and stood up, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of a long and brutal war. And she was ready.

Over the next few days, the tension between Steven and Dua continued to escalate. They barely spoke to each other, and when they did, it was only to argue. Shane tried to intervene, but it seemed like nothing he said or did could calm the situation. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. You knew it was going to end badly, but you couldn't look away. And then, one afternoon, things came to a head.

Dua and Steven were in the living room, both of them seething with anger. Shane was trying to mediate, but it was clear that nothing was going to resolve the situation.

"I hate you," Dua spat, her eyes blazing with fury.

"And do I look like I hate you less?" Steven replied, his voice cold and detached.

Shane sighed, rubbing his temples. "This is getting out of hand," he said, but neither Dua nor Steven seemed to care. They just kept arguing, their voices getting louder and louder until it seemed like the whole house was shaking. And then, just when it seemed like things couldn't get any worse, Dua threw a vase at Steven.

The vase shattered on the floor with a loud crash, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Steven's eyes flashed with anger as he stared at the broken vase, his face pale with rage. "You're gonna pay for that," he snarled, advancing on Dua. But Shane intervened, grabbing Steven's arm and holding him back.

"That's enough," he said, his voice firm. "This is getting out of hand."

Dua stood tall, her chest heaving with anger. "I'm not afraid of him," she spat.

Steven's eyes narrowed. "We'll see about that," he said, his voice dripping with menace.

And with that, the situation seemed to reach a boiling point. It was clear that something had to give, but what?

Only time would tell.